The Normans 9780300189964

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THE NORMANS

Copyright © 2022 Judith A. Green All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press) without written permission from the publishers. For information about this and other Yale University Press publications, please contact: U.S. Office: [email protected]   yalebooks.com Europe Office: [email protected]   yalebooks.co.uk Set in Adobe Caslon Pro by IDSUK (DataConnection) Ltd Printed in Great Britain by TJ Books, Padstow, Cornwall Library of Congress Control Number: 2021940108 e-ISBN 978-0-300-18996-4 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. 10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

CONTENTS List of Plates, Maps and Genealogical Tables Preface Introduction   1 Writing about the Normans   2 The Making of Ducal Normandy   3 Swords for Hire   4 Normans in the South   5 Normans in Britain   6 The First Crusade and the Principality of Antioch   7 The Normans and Power   8 The Normans and the Church   9 Encounters 10 Buildings Conclusion

Endnotes Maps and Genealogical Tables Bibliography Index

PLATES, MAPS AND GENEALOGICAL TABLES Plates   1. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. Detail from the Bayeux Tapestry.   2. Victims of war. Detail from the Bayeux Tapestry. Photo 12 / Alamy Stock Photo.   3. Greek fire. Illustration from the Madrid manuscript of the chronicle of John Skylitzes.   4. The White Tower, London. Bernard Gagnon / CC-BY-SA3.0.   5. Richmond castle, Yorkshire.   6. Paternò castle, Sicily. mauritius images GmbH / Alamy Stock Photo.   7. Bohemond at the walls of Antioch, by Gustave Doré.   8. Castle of Qal’at Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn (Saône), Syria.   9. Coronation of King Roger II. Mosaic from the church of Santa Maria dell’Ammiraglio, Sicily. Matthias Fußen / CC BY-SA-2.5. 10. Mausoleum of Bohemond, Canosa di Puglia. Berthold Werner / CC BY-SA-3.0. 11. Seal of William the Conqueror. Illustration from John Cassell’s Illustrated History of England, Vol. I, Cassell, Petter and Galpin, 1857. Glasshouse Images / Alamy Stock Photo. 12. Abbey church of St Stephen, Caen. Andia / Alamy Stock Photo. 13. St Nicholas, Bari. Photograph: Ian Green.

14. SS. Trinità, Venosa. Photograph: Ian Green. 15. Interior of the stone hall at the ducal castle at Caen, with

exhibition

display

of

mantle

of

Roger

II.

Photograph: Ian Green. 16. Statue of William the Conqueror, Falaise. Photograph: Ian Green. Maps   1. The Mediterranean World   2. Normandy   3. Southern Italy and Sicily   4. Britain   5. Eastern Mediterranean Genealogical Tables   1. Dukes of the Normans and their Family Connections   2. The Hauteville Family   3. Giroie and Grandmesnil   4. The Crispins   5. The Tosnys

PREFACE

Ta

HE PROPOSAL FOR THIS BOOK

was accepted on behalf of Yale

number of years ago by Heather McCallum, and

thanks to her patience, and the support of her team, especially editor Marika Lysandrou, the project has finally come to fruition. It was only as I started work that I realized the scale of the scholarship, the historiography, and the languages needed. I still regret not having learned Arabic. The book perforce builds on the work of the past, and it is a pleasure here to acknowledge the initial inspiration of my undergraduate tutor, R. Allen Brown, and his enduring legacy, the companionship of the members of the Battle Conference. A major debt is owed to the Centre de Recherche d’Archéologie et d’Histoire Médiévale at Caen, and to Professors Véronique Gazeau and Pierre Bauduin for years of friendship and support, and to the stimulus provided by the academic circle they have built up at Caen. More recently I have profited greatly from the friendship of Edoardo d’Angelo and that of Luigi Russo, who has supplied offprints of his important articles. Many individuals have alerted me to books and articles I might otherwise have missed, or have invited me to conferences where Norman activities in different parts of Europe have been discussed. These include David Bates, Elizabeth Danbury, Lindy Grant, Andrew Jotischky, Alex Metcalfe, Charlie Rozier, Keith Stringer, and Liesbeth Van Houts. Alistair Fair advised on buildings and images.

Special thanks are due to Ian Green and Bill Aird who read the whole text, and to the two anonymous readers for Yale who offered very helpful detailed, constructive comments. Note on sources: thanks to Oxford University Press (Clarendon Press) for permission to quote from Orderic Vitalis’s Ecclesiastical History. References are given to translations into English where available.

INTRODUCTION climate was improving, I population was growing, and people were on the move, N

THE

ELEVENTH

CENTURY

THE

west from central Asia, and south from north-western Europe. In 1054 the unity of Christianity between east and west was broken, a rift which lasted for centuries. In 1096 the idea of recovering Jerusalem from Muslims was translated into action. Existing empires and principalities were challenged and new polities were founded. War was at the centre of these events, waged by small armies led by men who achieved lasting fame, men such as William the Conqueror, Robert Guiscard, and Bohemond. That these men

were

of

Norman

extraction

seemed

to

their

chroniclers to be no coincidence. They were born of a warrior race, whose victories showed that they were favoured

by

God.

Their

achievements

prompted

a

remarkable body of historical writing starting with Dudo of Saint-Quentin around the turn of the first millennium, and it did not cease as Normandy’s period of autonomy came to an end in 1204 when the duchy was brought under the direct control of the king of France. Normandy was the name given to the territory initially settled by Rollo (Hrólfr, Rou), a Viking leader in the early tenth century. Under Rollo and his successors their followers spread west from the banks of the river Seine in northern France, south and east, until frontiers stabilized. The mixed population of Scandinavian and Frankish origins

became known as the Normans, the Northmen. By the early eleventh century Normans were found in southern Italy as pilgrims and mercenaries, then as warlords in permanent occupation. By the end of the eleventh century one family, the Hautevilles, dominated the south, and had subjected Arab Sicily to their rule. Meanwhile, in 1066 Duke William took a large force to southern England and defeated King Harold Godwinson at the battle of Hastings. This, the most famous battle in English history, led to a Norman conquest of the whole of England and parts of Wales. Finally, when Pope Urban II launched a military Crusade in 1095, Robert, Duke of the Normans responded with a contingent from the duchy, and Bohemond of Taranto with Normans from south Italy. Both proved to be outstanding military leaders and, whilst Robert returned to the west, Bohemond stayed and sought to extend his power from Antioch across northern Syria. The Normans were thus involved in key events in northwestern Europe, Italy, and the Near East. In England and Wales, and in Italy and Sicily, the successors of William the Conqueror and Robert Guiscard went from strength to strength. Under Henry I, King of England and Duke of Normandy, the kingdom became increasingly integrated and the monarchy centralized. The kingdom also became more dominant within the British Isles. In Sicily, Henry’s contemporary, Roger II, was recognized as king in 1130. He proceeded to establish bases in north Africa and went on to

establish a court culture which drew on different traditions in the south and became the most spectacular in Europe. In the Near East Antioch was to be the most long-lasting of the Frankish principalities, surviving into the thirteenth century. This book is concerned chiefly with the Normans’ explosive rise to power, their establishment in Normandy, and their eleventh-century conquests. To deal in depth with the England of Henry I or the Sicily of Roger II is really to enter a different world, albeit one which built on the achievements of previous generations. The decision runs counter to commonly accepted descriptions such as ‘AngloNorman’ England, which usually is thought to have ended in 1154, or ‘Norman-Swabian’ for the kingdom of Sicily between 1130 and 1266. It also involves making a judgement about the length of time that descriptions of these

kingdoms

including

the

term

‘Norman’

are

appropriate. The focus here is on the eleventh rather than the twelfth century, whilst recognizing the contribution developments in England and Italy before 1100 made to the kingdoms of Henry I and Roger II.1 The image cultivated by the Normans is of unstoppable success. Their victories make for a great story, ‘the stormin’ Normans’, but how much of it is true? The idea that they were a race of exceptional warriors produced by an exceptionally well organized society hardly corresponds to what we know of other similar territorial principalities,

and of a world where many young men sought careers as soldiers of fortune. Political instability and a surplus of adult males brought up as warriors were the backdrop to emigration. We need, therefore, to turn to other explanations. These include location, for they operated in zones of contested power where there were opportunities for mercenaries. A second factor is the nature of warfare where relatively small numbers under able leaders could make great gains. Thirdly, the Norman ‘conquests’ happened at a time of fundamental change in the western Latin church as the papacy emerged at the head of a hierarchical structure, as dioceses were founded and reordered, and as wealth flowed into the monastic orders. The Normans could be seen as agents of reform, and as allies of the papacy. They were benefactors of religious houses, passing on some of the wealth and assets accrued through conquest. In Sicily and Antioch, both contested regions, they imposed their rule over Muslims. Finally, succession to land and power in peaceful times was transmitted through families, so women had important parts to play in a world which at first sight seems resolutely masculine. Wives of Normans brought wealth and land to their husbands. They acted as deputies, castellans, and, when the need arose, they went to war. The idea that there was a single Norman world, reflected in the writing of chroniclers keen to link their famous victories, and influential in more recent books, is

challenged here.2 There were factors common to their successes in Italy, England, and Antioch, but there were also striking differences, in the numbers involved, in the societies into which they arrived, and in the effects of their presence. Differences and common factors are explored here in thematic chapters. One considers power and the Normans’

reputation

for

excessive

brutality,

and

its

translation into permanent rule through lordship and kingship. Lordship was pervasive in this era, but was changing both in terms of relations between lords and peasants and lords and their military followings. It was possible

for

new

lords

to

impose

new

oppressive

obligations on peasants; in reality the weight of lordship varied considerably from region to region, affected by factors such as the availability of labour, investment, and climate. As counts, dukes, princes, and kings the Normans used the language and symbolism of power through ritual, the language of documents, and their images on seals and coins. In that sense they were typical of other rulers of their day, but it is important to evaluate how far eleventhcentury developments contributed to monarchy in twelfthcentury England and Sicily. Other chapters explore the nature of the Normans’ encounters with the peoples over whom they ruled. Conquerors could have swept away old cultures with new regimes: it is argued here that there was a range of experiences,

ranging

from

separate

identities,

to

accommodation, assimilation, and integration. Law was one touchstone: by whose laws should conquered peoples be ruled? Language was another: Latin was common to churchmen in the west, but different vernaculars, and more importantly the status accorded to them, are indicative of relations between rulers and ruled. Diet was another marker of social status and here the investigation of castle middens has thrown up information about what the residents actually ate, and how different it was from the food available to the masses. The study of textiles has thrown light on the kind of fabrics available to the elite and where they were manufactured. The Normans’ successes occurred during a building boom which we tend to think of as an age of castles and cathedrals.

Defensive

fortifications

were

already

widespread in Europe and the Near East. Towns and cities were defended by their walls, in many cases going back to Roman times, as well as rurally situated forts, and the process of defending villages was under way. The arrival of Normans undoubtedly led to extra fortifications in cities, and new castles were built in the countryside, some from scratch, others by adapting what was already there. The type of building, the materials used, and their setting in the landscape have all been subject to reassessment. Likewise archaeologists and architectural historians are filling out our knowledge of the kinds of churches built by incoming Norman

bishops

and

abbots

by

demonstrating

the

influences which determined size and layout. In England, where almost all major churches were rebuilt after 1066, patrons did not simply look to Normandy for inspiration. In southern Italy the churches of Rome and Montecassino offered influential models, and some churches were built with Byzantine-type domes. There was then no ‘Norman imperial’ style of architecture to compare, for instance, with Gothic buildings commissioned by the British Raj in India.3 The built environment of towns and cities was transformed: whatever else, the arrival of Normans was a boom time for builders. The

old

certainties

about

the

Normans

are

thus

challenged, though the glamour and excitement of their history remains. Whether it is the story of William the Conqueror having three horses killed under him at Hastings, of his son Robert who, his forces outnumbered at the battle of Dorylaeum on the First Crusade, lifted his helmet and shouted ‘Normandy’, or of Bohemond about to storm the city walls at Antioch, their deeds still capture the imagination and stir us to find out more.4

CHAPTER ONE

WRITING AB OUT THE NORMANS

A by

REMARKABLE BODY OF HISTORICAL COMPOSITION

the

Normans.

They

were

was generated

portrayed

as

super

warriors, a race favoured by God which conquered on the battlefield. Those who wrote on their behalf created and projected a past and present from the fall of Troy, to the establishment of a Viking warrior in northern France, his conversion to Christianity, and the building of a Christian principality. When a handful of Normans migrated to southern Italy, succeeded in reshaping its society and conquered Sicily from its Muslim rulers, again their historians saw success as a validation by God. The conquest of England, more thoroughgoing and dramatically swift, was seen as a judgement on the sins of the English and a sign that God favoured the Norman race. The First Crusade was written about as a Frankish expedition, but two of its heroes, Bohemond and Tancred, were at the head of the south Italian Normans, whilst a second contingent was from Normandy and was headed by the Norman duke, Robert Curthose. These multiple narratives have been the object of a great deal of scholarship, some dealing with the texts composed within Normandy, whilst others are concerned with individual authors.1 Attention has been paid to the circumstances in which narratives were composed, to the choice of genre, authorial agenda, and to audience. They

need to be contextualized with other sources such as annals,

poems,

the

inimitable

Bayeux

Tapestry,

and

charters which, until recently, have been an under-utilized source about the recognition of different ethnic groups under Norman rule.2 The narratives matter because they are the principal, though not the only, source about the Normans’ view of their own history, and about contemporaries’ reactions to their conquests. The idea that the Normans were a people with distinct characteristics, notably their prowess in war, is a leitmotif running through eleventh- and twelfth-century narratives, and it has influenced historians’ approach to Norman studies until comparatively recently. In the early twentieth century the American historian Charles Homer Haskins gave a series of lectures, ‘The Normans in European History’, in the first of which he described the Normans as ‘warriors and adventurers in untamed lands and upon uncharted seas, they were organizers of states and rulers of peoples’.3 This view of the Normans as conquerors and rulers underpinned, for instance, D. C. Douglas’s two volumes, The Norman Achievement and The

Norman Fate. R. H. C. Davis drew attention to the shaky foundations on which the idea of Norman conquests as a single endeavour rests, in The Normans and their Myth. This was refuted, amongst others who seemed to have downplayed the Normans’ achievement, by R. Allen Brown, in The Normans.4 More recently, Norman historical writing

has been discussed more in the context of ethnic identity, especially its relationship to state formation.5 Norman Historical Writing

Dudo: From Pirates to Christian Princes Dudo, canon of Saint-Quentin, wrote to Adalbero, Bishop of Laon that he was commissioned to write his history by Duke Richard I, whom he visited frequently in the two years before his death in 996. The duke had asked him to describe ‘the customs and deeds of the Norman land, the rights

established

within

the

kingdom

of

his

great-

grandfather Rollo’.6 He had not yet begun when the duke died, but his successor Richard II and the latter’s brother Count Ralph of Ivry, urged him to finish his work. Dudo was an educated scholar, who had received his training at a school such as Liège or perhaps Laon.7 He chose to write a Latin prosimetrum, that is, a work in prose interspersed with poems. His task was far from easy given the lack of evidence about the Normans before they arrived in France, but he provided a history which traced the Normans back to Antenor, a companion of Aeneas, thus including the Norman people in the company of European gentes.8 Dudo thought that their story began in Dacia (modern day Romania), and that the Danes who lived there were driven out of their homeland with their leader Hasting, a pagan warrior. A second leader, Alstignus, attacked the city of Luna (Luni in Italy), and was converted to Christianity. The hero of the second book was Rollo who went first to the

island of Scanza (thought to have been Scandinavia), then, guided by a dream, to England. In another dream he was on a mountain washing in a spring, when he saw many different birds, each with one red wing, which also washed in the spring and nested peacefully. The mountain in the dream was interpreted as being Francia, Rollo’s immersion as a reference to his baptism, and the birds of different species nesting as the rebuilding of cities. After further adventures Rollo arrived at Rouen, moved on to Paris and assisted his ally Æthelstan, King of the English. He finally made peace with Charles the Simple, King of the west Franks. At Saint-Clair-sur-Epte Charles ceded ‘that land from the stream of the Epte as far as the sea’.9 Dudo describes the discussions in detail, including a story that Rollo, when asked to kiss the king’s foot as a token of submission, was unwilling. The task was delegated to one of his followers, who lifted the foot to his mouth whilst the king was standing so that he toppled over.10 Rollo’s baptism is presented as being transformative: he made gifts to the most important churches, distributed land to his followers, rebuilt churches and town walls, and distributed land to his followers. Book

III

was

devoted

to

William

Longsword.

In

presentational terms this was challenging, because Rollo’s gains barely survived the attacks of neighbours, and William himself was murdered. He was represented as a man who longed to become a monk but who was

designated by Rollo as his successor. His life ended tragically when, having been tricked into a meeting with Arnulf, Count of Flanders, he, the ‘most holy duke’, was slaughtered by Arnulf’s men.11 The fourth and longest book was devoted to Dudo’s first patron, Richard I, who, like his father, was presented to the great men as the heir to Normandy. Dudo did not play down the duke’s early difficulties: the treachery of Arnulf, Count of Flanders and of Louis IV, King of the west Franks, and how his survival owed much to his alliance first with Hugh the Great, Duke of the Franks and Count of Paris, and then his son Hugh Capet. He did not omit the fact that Count Theobald of Blois-Chartres took Évreux, but emphasized that the city was finally returned to the duke. He reported the duke’s suppression of an otherwise unrecorded revolt by Ralph ‘Torta’. He also recorded the support the duke gained from Danes in 966 when King Louis was defeated outside Rouen, and his praise for the men of Rouen. Dudo tells us little in detail about the duke’s rule over Normandy, except to praise him as a Christian prince. The key points to take from Dudo are his association of the people with the territory, Normandy, its unity despite polyglot origins, and its rulers, from Rollo the Christian convert, William the would-be monk, and Richard the pious prince. It was an exercise in repackaging, providing the Normans with a history going back to Troy, and a distinct identity. It has been argued that it was commissioned at a time when the

Normans needed a political reorientation, having tried and failed to assimilate into the Frankish elite.12 Although a text in Latin, its intended audience was the ducal court.13 William of Jumièges wrote that in his history of the

Deeds of the Norman Dukes he intended to bring the story down to the present time, that of Duke William II. Jumièges was an important early medieval abbey which had suffered in the Viking era and was in the throes of reconstruction in the early eleventh century. The date at which he wrote is tricky to establish because it bears on the Norman justification for the invasion of 1066. He may have written an early version in the 1050s, only to revise it later.14 He included English history from the time of the marriage of Æthelred and Emma of Normandy, and the role of Archbishop Robert of Jumièges, who ended his days at the abbey, in transmitting an offer of the succession to the English throne to William the Conqueror.15 Books one to seven (chapter 12) dealt with the history of Normandy to 1066, and were apparently composed before 1066, whilst the rest of book seven and the epilogue were written around 1069.16 An updated version of Norman history setting out the basis of William’s claim would have been seen as timely and appropriate. The author, though writing for a new audience, drew heavily on Dudo’s History. In his account of the origins of the Normans and of their arrival in Normandy, he also made use of the sixth-century author Jordanes’s work, De

Getica (On the Goths). He focussed on Bjorn Ironside rather than Hasting and omitted most of Rollo’s early career. He added extra information where available, for example relating to Jumièges. From the time of Richard II he did not have Dudo as a basis and had to write his own biographies

of

the

dukes,

so

concentrated

on

their

campaigns and the way they dealt with their enemies, interweaving their careers with events in England. He emphasized

designation

as

the

key

factor

in

ducal

succession: in the case of the succession of Duke Robert I to his brother Richard III, Robert, he wrote, was chosen ‘by all’.17 His portrayal of Richard II emphasized his actions: his dealings with rebels, his marriage, the recovery of the border stronghold of Tillières, the capture of Melun, and the siege of Mimande.18 In other words, William did not emphasize the duke’s saintly character. Nevertheless, as Pierre Bauduin has shown, Richard II’s rule was seen as crucial for a transformation of the image of the Normans and their rulers from pirates to Christian princes.19 William’s presentation of Duke Robert acknowledged that there

was

a

period

when

he

was

advised

by

evil

counsellors. The author again relates his actions before his decision to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, commending his young son to the magnates, when he could legitimately be described as ‘lover of God’.20 Duke William II’s early difficulties were recounted, from his relations with the Norman magnates, to the assistance

of the King of France at Val-ès-Dunes, his capture of Alençon and Domfront, the campaigns leading to Norman victories at Mortemer and Varaville, and the fighting in Maine. After this rocky start the author moved on, writing after 1066, to the succession to King Edward of England. When it came to the Conquest of England, William was quite clear about King Edward’s designation of his kinsman Duke William as his heir, the justice of his cause, and of William’s victory. In fact, as Van Houts has pointed out, when the author picked up his pen once more, he only included snapshots of events after 1066 rather than a detailed narrative.21 What gave the Deeds of the Norman Dukes much greater significance over time was the way it became a ‘history without an end’ as it was copied, annotated, and added to by successive authors. It became, in effect, a master narrative of Norman history. One early addition by an anonymous author was of the De Obitu Willelmi, a text which draws on two earlier sources, the Vita Ludovici

imperatoris and the Vita Karoli Magni.22 This account of the last days of the Conqueror is significant because of its reference to the grant before 1087 of Normandy to William’s estranged eldest son, Robert Curthose. It has been suggested that the addition was made to strengthen the case for Robert’s claim to succeed his father.23 Later, the two other important contributors were Orderic Vitalis,

writing at Saint-Evroul, and Robert of Torigni, then a monk of Bec. Orderic made additions to William of Jumièges’s text which became increasingly frequent from book seven, dealing with William the Conqueror. He added details about aristocratic feuding during William’s minority, inserted accounts

of

the

families

of

Bellême,

Giroie,

and

Montgomery, and he made use of William of Poitiers’s

Deeds of William, toning down the latter’s prose. He also added two chapters on the Normans in Italy. Robert of Torigni began to make revisions in about 1139. He reinserted quite a lot of Dudo’s material about Rollo before his conversion to Christianity, which had been omitted by William, added an account of the life of Herluin, founder of Bec, a great deal of genealogical information about Norman aristocratic families, and an eighth book about Henry I.24 This, significantly, was to be the last updating of the

Deeds of the Norman Dukes. Orderic’s great Ecclesiastical History ended in the 1140s, and Robert turned his attention away from the Deeds of the Norman Dukes to compose a universal chronicle.25 David Bates has argued that Robert’s universal chronicle was designed to set the history of England and Normandy in a wider context.26 For the history of England down to the twelfth century he drew heavily on Henry of Huntingdon and, from 1147, became more clearly a supporter of the future Henry II. Robert’s

account did not depict the events of 1066 as a great turning point in English history. Normandy under the Plantagenets Under Henry II there were renewed efforts to retell the Norman

past.

Between

1160

and

1174

Henry

II

commissioned Wace, canon of Bayeux cathedral, to provide a version in French. This, the ‘Romance of Rollo’ (Roman

de Rou) survives in four parts, a Chronique Ascendante tracing Henry II’s ancestry back to Rollo (Rou), followed by the first part, devoted to Hasting, the second from Rollo to Richard I (corresponding to the Deeds of the Norman

Dukes), and the third, from Richard I to the battle of Tinchebray in 1106, when Henry defeated and captured his brother Robert.27 Wace was writing for a courtly audience, and framed his account accordingly. There is dramatic detail about the battle of Hastings, such as the minstrel Taillefer singing the Chanson de Roland before the battle, plus a long list of the leaders present.28 The author is notably more sympathetic to Robert Curthose than Orderic, concerned to uphold Henry I’s rule, had been. Wace did not extend his history beyond the battle of Tinchebray and thus did not link the earlier Norman past to its present and future. Whether it was his verbosity, sympathetic treatment of Duke Robert or, as has been suggested recently, because the great rebellion against Henry diminished the attraction of Norman history for a time, he lost the commission, which was handed over to

Benoît de Sainte-Maure, thought to have been a monk at Marmoutier or Tours.29 Benoît wrote in 1174 or 1175, and reframed his material in a way that must have been more what his royal patron required. He began with the creation of the world, and followed the Deeds of the Norman Dukes according to the redaction of Robert of Torigni which presented a favourable picture of the king’s grandfather, Henry I.30 Benoît’s work was, in effect, a ‘mirror of princes’. Even so, it significantly did not include the history of Normandy beyond 1135. Stephen of Rouen was a monk of Bec, who in 1169 composed a Latin poem, Norman Dragon, which did seek to relate the past to the present.31 It is notable, first of all, for the prominence in Norman history accorded to the Empress, a notable patron of Bec. The poem began with, and later returned to, her death, continued with the career of Henry II and a brief history of Normandy down to 1127. There followed an exchange of letters between King Arthur and King Henry about the latter’s claims to Brittany, the papal schism of 1159–77, and the homage paid by Henry’s sons to Louis VII for their continental possessions. The work reflects, in other words, the author’s contemporary concerns: the death of the Empress, Henry’s assertion of his claim to Brittany and the relationship between the Angevins and the Capetians, arguing that the Capetians had usurped power from the Carolingians.

Stephen was not alone in expressing anti-Capetian sentiments and, as David Crouch has pointed out, similar themes occurred in a late twelfth-century poem by Andrew of Coutances, the Roman des Franceis.32 They may reflect contemporary anxieties about the position of Normandy visà-vis Capetian France, but it would perhaps be a mistake to assume

that

Normans

believed

their

autonomy

was

doomed. Norman-ness was only one facet of identity in a changing world, and could have co-existed with a sense of belonging to the kingdom of France. The Celebration of Conquest Dudo and William of Jumièges had provided an identity and history of the Normans between their arrival in northern France and the triumph of William the Conqueror. The scale of that triumph had transformed William’s status. His achievements echoed and even surpassed the achievements of Julius Caesar, and were celebrated in verse and prose and, most memorably, on the Bayeux Tapestry. The Latin poem, the Song of the Battle of Hastings, is thought to have been composed by Guy, Bishop of Amiens (who died in 1074 or 1075) and was addressed to ‘L’, possibly Lanfranc, Abbot of St Stephen’s Caen and, from 1070, Archbishop of Canterbury. The poem is nowadays thought to have been composed about 1068, and covered events between the arrival of the invasion fleet at Saint-Valery-sur-Somme whence it crossed the Channel and the Conqueror’s coronation. Poems of this kind were not unknown. The

author does not explain why he wrote, though if he were indeed Guy, Bishop of Amiens, there were combatants in the battle who hailed from the region his family came from.33 The bishop also accompanied Queen Matilda to England in 1068.34 It has been suggested that if the ‘L’ was indeed Lanfranc, he may have been on the way to Rome, where his good offices on behalf of Guy could have been solicited.35 The poem is famous for adding details to our knowledge of 1066: that Harold’s body was buried on the seashore by William Malet; that King Harold was cut down in the battle by four knights, not killed by an arrow through the eye; and that Ansger the Staller (a leading official of King Edward) led the defence of London after the battle. The Bayeux Tapestry was another form of celebratory commemoration, which gives an account of events between 1064, Harold’s visit to Normandy, and his death and defeat at Hastings. The end of the Tapestry is missing, but probably Conqueror

concluded being

with

an

crowned.

image The

of

William

identity

of

the the

commissioning patron of the Tapestry has been a subject of endless discussion. There is some agreement that it was executed at Canterbury, but there are different theories about whether it was made for Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, either for one of his residences or for the cathedral at Bayeux, or for the monks of St Augustine’s Canterbury, who are thought to have masterminded its design.36 The narrative is closely in line with that of William of Poitiers:

Harold crossed the Channel, where he fell into the power of Guy of Ponthieu who handed him over to Duke William. Harold swore an oath, accompanied the duke on campaign to Brittany, then returned to England. King Edward died, Harold was crowned king, and William assembled a great invasion force. The army landed near Hastings, built a castle, and then the battle took place. Harold’s brothers were killed, then Harold, by an arrow through the eye. The English finally ‘turned in flight’, pursued by the Normans. The

visual

impression

conveyed,

including

the

construction of ships and the assembling of supplies, Norman warriors on their splendid horses, and the portrayal of the duke and his brothers, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Robert, Count of Mortain, has led to much discussion. Harold is shown first as an aristocrat and warrior, gallantly carrying one companion over the river Couesnon in 1064 and assisting another, then as a crowned king.37 The subject matter of the borders has also been discussed, and the suggestion is that those which were fables well known to the audience actually subverted the message of the main panels in such a way as to suggest Harold’s trickery.38 There is still much that is unresolved, but for what it is worth, the present writer believes that the work was executed by Englishwomen at Canterbury, under the direction of a monk of Mont-Saint-Michel who became abbot, for display at the cathedral at Bayeux, or a residence of Odo, Bishop of Bayeux.39

William of Poitiers was from Préaux in Normandy and was possibly connected with local lords, the powerful Beaumont family.40 His name came from his attendance of the schools at Poitiers. He became a royal chaplain then archdeacon

of

Lisieux

under

Bishop

Hugh

and

his

successor Gilbert Maminot. His unfinished Latin account was panegyric, drawing selectively on classical sources to compare William favourably with Julius Caesar, Aeneas, and Theseus. William was a heroic warrior whose conquest of England was divinely justified as he was but claiming the inheritance which he had been wrongly denied. The author’s text finished in 1071, when he seems to have put down his pen.41 All the authors discussed above saw the Normans as great warriors whose victories showed they were favoured by God.42 They celebrated the courage and piety of their heroes, and their credentials as Christian rulers. Dudo established the idea of Normandy as an entity, and the Normans (whether of Frankish or Danish origin) as the inhabitants of that region. The era of Richard I was evidently key to its establishment as a polity. From Dudo’s time onwards the question of the dukes’ relations with the Carolingians and then the Capetians was both important and sensitive. Dudo stressed that Rollo did not make a formal act of submission to Charles the Simple by suggesting that Rollo’s man upended the king.43 Later generations took care not to imply that Norman dukes,

whilst recognizing kings of France, paid homage which came to be seen as a recognition of subordinate status.44 Normandy after 1087 As time went on, the old stories were repackaged for new times and new audiences, as Elisabeth Van Houts has demonstrated.45 There are indications that the oldest manuscript of William of Jumièges was connected with the FitzOsbern family.46 At Battle Abbey, founded by the Conqueror after his victory at Hastings, the monks began to set down memories of the history of Normandy between 1035 and 1106, the date of the battle of Tinchebray.47 The

Brevis Relatio added anecdotes not found in the early accounts, such as a description of the relics on which Harold swore his oath to William, and the location of Harold’s standard on the hill at Hastings.48 The masterpiece of Orderic Vitalis, his Ecclesiastical

History, was much more than a history of the Normans or their dukes, but it undoubtedly belongs in any discussion of Norman historical writing. Orderic had been born in England of a French father and English mother49 and was sent away to southern Normandy to the abbey of SaintEvroul, where he became a member of the community. Prompted by Abbot Roger, and probably in the context of a visit of Henry I to the abbey in February 1113, Orderic, who had gained experience by his earlier work on the annals of Saint-Evroul and the revision of William of Jumièges’s Deeds of the Norman Dukes, began to write.

The structure of his work evolved over time. At the start he said that he had been instructed by his superiors to write about the deeds of the Normans, and at the beginning of Book V he reiterated that he was writing a history of the Normans for the Normans.50 He began with a history of his own community and the families who were its leading benefactors, including those who went to southern Italy. He wrote of the Norman dukes, drawing on Dudo and William of Jumièges and, when he came to the Conqueror’s career, used William of Poitiers. Book IV ended with the execution of Earl Waltheof who was buried at Crowland abbey, followed by a Life of St Guthlac. Book V began with Norman events to 1080, but then segued into histories of Rouen and Évreux, their churches and saints, before returning to Robert Curthose’s quarrel with his father, the endowments of Saint-Evroul, the foundation of Shrewsbury Abbey – in which Orderic’s father had been instrumental – the priories of Noron and Maule and their benefactors. Book six began with an account of Gerold of Avranches, chaplain of Earl Hugh of Chester, first Abbot of Tewkesbury, before reverting to the priory of Auffay, and the life and miracles of Saint-Evroul. In other words, the focus of books five and six is the history of the abbey of Saint-Evroul and its priories, with rather less space given to secular affairs. Book seven began with the siege of Rome in 1084, continued with the last years of Robert Guiscard’s career, then the last years of the

Conqueror’s life. Book eight dealt with events between 1087 and 1092 then switched to a lengthy discussion of the new orders. Book nine was an account of the First Crusade based on Baudry of Bourgueil, and ten dealt with historical events between 1098 and the release of Bohemond from captivity in 1103. Books eleven to thirteen dealt with events between 1101 and 1141, which Orderic prefaced by saying he wrote ‘of the deeds of kings and bishops’ because there were so few saints in recent times.51 He ended book thirteen on a personal note, describing his life in the church and hope of salvation. In about 1136 he added two preliminary books he described as a chronography, dealing with

the

Life

of

Christ

and

the

early

church.

His

masterpiece is sprawling and verbose, but its central purpose was to offer a story of Christians and their struggles to follow the life of Christ, pegged onto the history of his own community and region. By beginning with Christ himself and ending with his own experience of exile and obedience he was offering his fellow monks a voyage through life towards death and salvation. His great work ended as his own life was drawing to a close and at a time when, as he saw, Normandy was once again experiencing war after the death of Henry I. When peace was restored under Henry FitzEmpress, Normandy became a constituent part of a much larger political entity and existed in a world where Normans were faced with the growing power and potential intervention of the Capetian

kings, Louis VII and then Philip Augustus. As we have seen above, there was an attempt to retell the history of the Normans for a new audience. Copies were still being made of Dudo and William of Jumièges, extended to include an account of Richard the Lionheart on Crusade, and then the conquest of Normandy by Philip Augustus.52 Thus the Normans did not lose interest in their history, but after 1087 it proved difficult to promote it either as a tale of success or uniquely Norman, as the fate of the duchy was bound

up

with

that

of

England

and

then

of

the

Plantagenets. Writing about the Normans: Southern Italy and Sicily There are three principal eleventh-century sources from southern Italy and Sicily with the Normans as their main subject: the History of the Normans by Amatus of Montecassino, the Deeds of Count Roger of Calabria and

Sicily and of his Brother Duke Robert Guiscard by Geoffrey Malaterra, and William of Apulia’s Deeds of Robert

Guiscard.53 There is in addition a twelfth-century text which builds on Malaterra.54 A great deal of historical writing was going on at Montecassino in the later eleventh century, and Amatus, about whom personally little is known,

based

his

account

on

the

chronicle

of

Montecassino.55 His work was intended to show how the leaders of the Normans, Richard Prince of Capua and Robert Guiscard, transitioned from being robbers to pious benefactors. He wrote at the behest of Abbot Desiderius

(1058–87), a Lombard whose father had been killed by the Normans, but whose abbey had been enriched by them and whose leaders played an important role in the abbot’s relations with Pope Gregory VII.56 Amatus identified the first Normans in Italy as returning pilgrims who arrived at Salerno to find it under Muslim attack.57 It is interesting that Leo Marsicanus, who compiled part of the chronicle of Montecassino, had a different version whereby Melus, a Lombard who was trying to free himself from Byzantine rule, met the Normans at Capua where he had taken refuge.58 Richard, Lord of Capua was praised as one who had increased the abbey’s possessions, often from lands confiscated from Lombards who rebelled between 1063 and 1065, and protected it against its enemies, such as Pandulf IV, Gisulf of Salerno, and Berard of Marsia.59 It is only in the later pages of Amatus that Robert Guiscard was allotted more space, reflecting his increased importance to the abbey as a benefactor. The work ended with praise of the two lords. Richard was praised for giving the abbey castelli, defended settlements, and Robert and his wife cloth, gold and silver, mules ‘and Saracens, who were his slaves’.60 Little is known also about Geoffrey Malaterra. In the prefatory letter to his work, addressed to the bishop of Catania, he wrote that he had only recently become an Apulian and a Sicilian, and he probably became a monk at Catania, at the Abbey of Sant’Agata.61 He was writing at

the request of Count Roger and he offered an account of the deeds of Roger and his brother in prosimetric. He began Book I with an account of Rollo’s career, his establishment in Normandy, and the character of the Norman people. Their princes were generous in giving, the people expert in flattery, unrestrained unless firmly ruled, devoted to hunting and falconry, horses and weapons. He then homed in on the village of Hauteville near Coutances in western Normandy, whose very name he thought was indicative of the heights which the Hauteville family would achieve.62 What was offered was a highly selective presentation of history. Geoffrey omitted the agreement at Melfi between the different Normans to divide their lands. Opponents of the Hautevilles are usually shown as disruptive, and he has little to say about Bohemond. He wanted to show Count Roger as a loyal brother to Robert Guiscard and his son Roger Borsa, and as the man responsible for the return of Sicily to Christian rule. Robert was shown as insufficiently generous in providing for his brother, who nevertheless remained consistently loyal. Geoffrey is thought to have been writing around the time of the First Crusade, and Roger’s conquest of Sicily was represented as a holy war. In general Count Roger is shown as someone whose actions brought peace and stability. William of Apulia’s Deeds of Robert Guiscard is a Latin poem, and at first sight a straightforward encomium. The

author stated in the prologue that he wanted to serve Duke Roger (Borsa), Guiscard’s son, and was bearing in mind Pope Urban II’s admonition against idleness. The work was composed after the death in 1085 of Guiscard. An expedition by ‘the Gauls’ to open the route to the Holy Sepulchre is referred to which has led to the belief that the

terminus a quo was 1095 or 1096.63 Pope Urban II, who died in July 1099, was still living when the chronicle was written. The author’s stated intention was to write of those who led the Norman people when they came to Italy, why they stayed there, and under which leaders they defeated the Italians. The first book was devoted to the arrival of the Normans ‘famous for their deeds of arms’ and their early years in the land, ending in 1043 with the death of the Byzantine general George Maniakes. Marie-Agnès LucasAvenel has argued that the author wanted to show that he was a modern writer, and used epic elements to portray the Normans’ victories as those of young heroes over an old and decaying power (Byzantium).64 In Book II the narrative turned to the sons of Tancred, the battle of Civitate, the cession of Calabria to Robert Guiscard, and ended with Robert’s miraculous escape from assassination. Book III began with affairs in the Byzantine Empire and focusses on Guiscard’s successes in war on the mainland and in Sicily, thanks to the assistance of his brother. In other words, Roger is portrayed as his brother’s ally, rather than the

effective commander in the conquest of the island. Book IV began with the exile of Michael, Guiscard’s son-in-law and Byzantine emperor, Guiscard’s dealings with Gregory VII, the rise to power of Alexios Comnenos, the arrival of an impostor Michael in Italy, and continuing in Book V, Guiscard’s Balkan campaigns, ending with his death. The various stages of Robert Guiscard’s life were thus not given equal weight, by far the most attention being given to his last years and campaigns in the Balkans. The correspondence between this account of events and that of the Byzantine princess, Anna Comnena, has long been noticed and has led to various theories: did Anna have access to William’s Deeds, or were the two accounts composed independently? Peter Frankopan has argued recently that Anna had access to William’s text, which may have been composed, he suggests, in the run up to the Council of Bari in 1098.65 The decrees of the council do not survive, but on the agenda was an attempt at reconciliation between the western and eastern churches.66 Frankopan even makes the suggestion that William of Apulia may have taken the text to Constantinople.67 Both Geoffrey Malaterra and William of Apulia were writing for the Hautevilles, and Amatus for the community of Montecassino. All three were concerned to portray the Normans as a gens, a people, even though it is clear that they were few in number and soon enrolled non-Normans in their ranks. It is not clear how widely the texts were

disseminated. Amatus was known to those responsible for the Montecassino chronicle, but the manuscript survives only in a fourteenth-century French version. There are four surviving manuscripts of Geoffrey Malaterra. His work evidently reached Normandy, for it was known to Orderic Vitalis.68 The only surviving manuscript of William of Apulia’s poem was in the Norman abbey of Mont-SaintMichel. These limited numbers raise questions about their intended audience, but it is also significant that two of them were known in Normandy. Writing about the Normans: England In England there was a tradition dating back to Alfred’s reign of annalistic writing in the vernacular, which continued into the mid-twelfth century.69 The late eleventh and early twelfth centuries were in fact a golden age in the writing of annals, history and hagiography. Historians have not been slow to connect this upsurge with the Norman Conquest, though the desire to record a community’s history was being experienced more generally in western Europe.70 Sir Richard Southern in particular believed that the English Benedictines turned to recording the history of their communities in the face of a challenge to their endowments and to their beloved saints.71 James Campbell on the other hand suggested that the writing was less about nostalgia for a lost past than to fill a gap after Bede when, for several centuries there had been relatively little writing.72 Both views have some truth, but it has become

evident from study of the manuscripts that monks at the main

centres,

Christ

Church

Canterbury,

Worcester,

Durham, and Malmesbury were working closely together, copying and exchanging manuscripts.73 A particular concern was computistics, crucial for the accurate dating of events and of liturgical feasts. The Lotharingian Robert Bishop of Hereford was a notable expert and brought with him to England a manuscript of Marianus Scotus’s world chronicle which was based on a redating of chronology since the foundation of the world by twenty-two years.74 At Worcester cathedral priory the monk John was part of a team which adopted the new reckoning in their continuation of Marianus.75 From here, knowledge of the alternative dating spread to Durham, Malmesbury, Canterbury, and to Saint-Evroul in Normandy.76 Symeon of Durham, Eadmer of Canterbury and William of Malmesbury were cantors, the monks in charge of arranging liturgical observance and the supply of books.77 They wrote in a variety of genres, not just history, but clearly the need to provide accurate dates was central to their work. At Worcester and Durham and, too, in the History of the

English by Henry of Huntingdon, the approach was chronological, building on the annals known collectively as the ‘Anglo-Saxon Chronicle’. Eadmer, however, branched out when he came to write about Anselm Archbishop of Canterbury. He decided to write about Anselm the saint – to his subject’s annoyance – and in tandem with a Life wrote a

separate account of his public life, the History of Recent

Events.78 The former was an intimate biography which, it has

been

argued,

credentials

and

was

establishing

justifying

his

Anselm’s

actions:

his

saintly

reluctant

obedience to the call to the archbishopric, and his flight and exile.79 The latter was a history of Anselm’s struggle to end the practice of investiture of bishops and abbots. It began with Archbishop Dunstan who predicted the ills that would befall England because of the accession of King Æthelred: ‘the kingdom itself would be worn again and again by bloody devastations’.80 As has recently been argued, this work falls somewhere between the genres of history and hagiography.81 These

authors,

with

the

exception

of

Henry

of

Huntingdon who was archdeacon of Huntingdon and a married cleric, were Benedictine monks.82 Eadmer was English, William part-English, part-Norman. The ethnicity of Symeon of Durham and John of Worcester is not known.83 Their reporting of the events of 1066 differed: Eadmer described Harold’s visit to Normandy to secure the release of his kinsmen who had been sent to Normandy as hostages, however, he fell into William’s hands and promised to help him to become king. He took the throne according to Edward’s wishes, and rejected William’s demands that he keep his word. At Hastings ‘William as Conqueror possessed the kingdom’, thus the Norman

victory was the judgement of God who was punishing Harold’s wicked perjury. John of Worcester’s account was based closely on a version

of

the

Anglo-Saxon

Chronicle

with

added

information and comment. Harold was portrayed as a good king, and his resistance at Hastings was valiant. The author made no comment about William’s victory being the judgement of God. Symeon of Durham drew heavily on the Worcester chronicle so his portrait of Harold, too, is favourable. However, after William’s coronation when he promised good laws and to defend the church, Symeon added a lengthy passage to explain the cause of William’s invasion. This he based on Eadmer’s History of Recent

Events: Harold went to Normandy to retrieve the hostages, was captured and made promises to William which he then did not keep. William the Conqueror obtained the kingdom but in such a hard-fought battle that the Franks testified that it was only secured by the judgement of God, and that God was punishing Harold’s perjury.84 It is in William of Malmesbury’s Deeds of the English

Kings that most of his comments about the Normans are found, though not all, for the most explicit remarks about their treatment of the English occur in his Commentary on

Lamentations.85 The Deeds of the English Kings is a lengthy study of English history from the arrival of the English down to his own day, composed at the request of Queen Matilda and in tandem with the Deeds of the

Bishops.86 Its structure changes radically from 1066 when he switched from a chronological account drawing on Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle to portraits of rulers on Suetonian lines.87 His presentation was strongly influenced both by classical ethics, and by traditional ideas of rulership.88 He contemplated both the intervention of God in human affairs, the role of fortuna or chance, and human agency.89 He was clear about the consequences of the Norman Conquest, after which England was a ‘playground for foreigners’, with no opportunity of advancement for Englishmen supported

in by

church the

or

wealth

society.90 of

Normandy

England.91

Edward

was the

Confessor foresaw in a vision that after his death the wicked English would be punished by subjection to foreigners, until a green tree which had been split was made whole again.92 Book II, which ended with the battle of Hastings, recounted that Harold was outwitted by the cunning of William. It was God’s purpose that the English would never fight as one for their liberty as though their strength had fallen away with Harold. Harold should have paid the penalty for his perfidy, even though the English, few in number, had fought valiantly against the Normans, a most warlike people.93 Book III began with Duke Robert of Normandy, Count Geoffrey of Anjou, and continued with the career of Duke William down to 1066. The duke remonstrated with Harold

about breaking his oath on the grounds that William’s daughter, to whom he had been betrothed, had died before she was old enough to marry. Harold replied that his oath about the kingdom had been presumptuous since it had been made without a general assembly of his people. If a promise by a daughter of William without her parents’ knowledge was regarded as void, then so too was an oath about the kingdom. It was unfair to expect him to renounce the throne which he held with popular support, and it would be unwelcome to his fellow countrymen and his knights.94 Thus the two sides prepared for battle. At Hastings the English spent the night carousing, whilst the Normans spent it in prayer.95 William was protected in the battle by God. After this passage, the chronicler reflected on the dies fatalis Angliae, the fatal day for England.96 For William of Malmesbury the moral fibre of the country had declined since the days when its people had been converted to Christianity. The Normans in contrast were well dressed and particular about their food. They were a people accustomed to war; they charged their enemies boldly but if force failed, they used craft and coin. They looked askance at their equals and wanted to overtake their superiors. They fleeced their inferiors but protected them from outsiders. They were very hospitable and married those of lesser station. The standard of religion had been improved by their arrival, and churches

were being built in towns and countryside, in a new style of architecture.97 William’s portraits of the Norman kings, and his portrait of Robert Curthose, have attracted a good deal of comment. He wrote about them at greater length and away from the constraints of a chronological narrative. By offering ruler portraits he was able to select his topics98 and included, for example, an account of the First Crusade, based chiefly on Fulcher of Chartres. He wrote that he would report in his own words what others saw and felt, and in so doing represented the ‘Jerusalem journey’ as an expedition

by

western

Christians

without

focussing

particularly on the Normans.99 Duke Robert travelled with Robert of Flanders and Stephen of Blois at the head of a contingent that included English and Normans, West Franks, Flemings, and all those from the ‘British Ocean to the Alps’. In other words, the Normans were part of a larger

polyglot

besieged

Antioch

contingent.100 and

When

Jerusalem

it

the was

Crusaders as

Franks.

Bohemond’s retention of Antioch was castigated as greedy, and Tancred’s spoliation of the Temple as avaricious.101 William followed the fortunes of the Crusade leaders, the kings of Jerusalem, then Bohemond and the principality of Antioch,

the

count

of

Toulouse

and,

finally,

Robert

Curthose. Bohemond was described in glowing terms as a warrior ‘second to none’, while his return to France and marriage to Constance, and the impression he made on

Frankish nobles was ‘the living image of valour’. Tancred was described as a man not unworthy of his uncle. Tancred’s successor, Roger, was avaricious and did not pay his knights, and so died fighting the Turks.102 The sketch of Robert is by modern standards cruel with his father ridiculing his small size. His valour against Kerbogha was recognized, but he was dishonoured by refusing the crown of Jerusalem. For this he was punished by God after his return

to

Normandy,

where

he

was

defeated

and

imprisoned.103 By choosing to present portraits of the Crusader leaders, the author was able to deal with Robert’s fate in this way, and in Book V he concentrated on the reigning king, Henry I. According to his own account, Henry of Huntingdon composed his History of the English at the behest of Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, who was consecrated in 1123.104 Henry was well educated, probably in the household of the bishop of Lincoln, and it has been suggested that for a time he may have aspired to royal patronage.105 He began his History with Bede’s description of Britain, which he soon explained had been called Albion, then Britain, now England.106 Divine vengeance had sent five plagues to the country: the Romans, the Picts and Scots, the Anglici, the Daci, and the Normanni, who ‘rule at the present time’.107 In other words, in this account the Conquest was seen entirely from the perspective of English rather than Norman or European history.

His account of the reigns of eleventh-century kings built on the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle but was much more detailed. When he reached that of Edward the Confessor he included passages on events in Normandy, notably the battles of Valès-Dunes and Mortemer. In 1066, he wrote, God fulfilled the fate he had planned for the English by subjecting them to the violent and cunning Norman people (gens).108 Harold usurped the crown. William was angered for three reasons, first because Earl Godwin had murdered Alfred, Edward the Confessor’s brother, secondly because Godwin and his sons had exiled Bishop Robert and the Franks, and thirdly because Harold had perjured himself and seized the kingdom which William ought to have had by right of kinship.109 In other words, the author provided three rather than one cause of war. Henry’s account of the battle included the story of Taillefer, the juggler performing his act tossing swords in front of the English lines, who was mentioned in the Carmen.110 In 1087 Henry of Huntingdon wrote that ‘when the Norman people had fulfilled the will of God’, King William died. There followed a denunciation of the ‘servitude and lamentation’ since 1066, so that it was a disgrace to be called English. The Normans surpassed all people in their cruelty; when they had crushed their enemies they then crushed their own people, which was clear in Normandy, England, Apulia, Calabria, Sicily, and Antioch. In England they increased tolls and the worst customs out of a desire

for gold and silver. He denounced justices, sheriffs and reeves as ‘worse than thieves and robbers’.111 Henry then rewrote and enhanced the denunciation of William’s rule in the ‘obituary’ in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, warning his reader to learn from the virtues and vices of so great a man and go by the ‘direct way to life everlasting’.112 He also included an account of the Crusade, writing that he felt impelled to do so since the events involved Duke Robert of the Normans. At Dorylaeum the duke urged on his companions. Tancred was described as ‘tireless’ and Bohemond as ‘warlike’; the crusading army once again was described as the Franks or the Christians. Henry repeated the story that Robert was offered and refused the crown of Jerusalem.113 A contemporary of Henry’s, but about whom much less is known, was Geoffrey Gaimar.114 He wrote the oldest surviving history of the English in French verse, not for a monastic or clerical audience but for one that was secular and courtly, and with a Lincolnshire connection. It is thought that his original intention was to compose an English history from its Trojan origins, but what survives is an account from the arrival of Cerdic in 449 up to 1100, broadly

based

on

the

Anglo-Saxon

Chronicle

but

embellished with stories to appeal to his readers, such as the tales of Buern Butsecarl, Havelok the Dane and Hereward the Wake. His account of the battle of Hastings was fairly brief. It included the story of Taillefer and

praised the courage of Count Alan and the Bretons, but did not ascribe the Norman victory to God, or say anything much about William the Conqueror and the Normans.115 In Gaimar’s account of the Conqueror’s reign, Hereward’s defiance of the Normans took pride of place, while the deaths of King William and his queen were simply reported.116 He also praised Duke Robert Curthose for his valour,

especially

on

Crusade.117

William

Rufus

was

crowned ‘by the English and the Normans’ and ruled them well, establishing peace through the land.118 Once again, Gaimar showed himself to be less interested in kings than in lords, and the great feast held at Westminster in 1099 was described at length. The focus has shifted, away from the rights and wrongs of the Norman Conquest, towards heroes. A

more

dramatic

shift

was

that

by

Geoffrey

of

Monmouth, who composed his Latin History of the Kings of

Britain in the 1130s.119 This was a different narrative, substituting the history of Britain from Brutus, first king of the Britons, to Cadualadrus. It ended with the decline of the Britons, now Welsh, and the peaceful living of the Saxons. He claimed that Caradoc of Lancarfan would write the history of the Welsh, and William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon the history of the Saxons.120 There has been a great deal of discussion about the motives and the timing that lay behind its composition, and its relationship to Welsh and Cornish traditions.121 Some have

seen it as a reflection of the politics of the 1130s, or as a defence of the Welsh at a time when Earl Robert of Gloucester was allying with the Welsh forces against King Stephen.122 Geoffrey was a canon of the collegiate church of St George at Oxford. He referred to ‘the British book’ and wrote that he had heard of the union of Queen Ganhumara (Guinevere) and the usurper Modred from Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford.123 Geoffrey was evidently well acquainted with the work of his contemporaries, William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, with Robert, Earl of Gloucester to whom his History was addressed, and with Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln who had urged him to publish his work on the prophecies of Merlin.124 In the context of this chapter, what is important is that this was not a history of the English, or the Normans, but of a British hero, and it was to be much more popular than either. In the History of the Kings of Britain Geoffrey of Monmouth raises the question of Wales, and thus the impact of the Normans there. For the most part we have to rely on authors based in England such as William of Malmesbury or, in Normandy, Orderic Vitalis. The Welsh chronicle, the Brut y Tywysogion, though surviving in a comparatively late text, incorporated early material. This does contain condemnation of the ‘French’ but may of course reflect later sentiment. Under 1066 the chronicler reported that Harold ‘unlawfully gained supremacy of the

kingdom of England’ and William ‘in a mighty battle defended the kingdom of England with unconquered hand and his most noble host’. Subsequently the French ravaged Ceredigion on two occasions. In 1081 William the Bastard, King of the Saxons and the French, and the Britons went on pilgrimage to Menevia (St David’s). In 1093 ‘then fell the kingdom of the Britons’ with the deaths in quick succession of Rhys ap Tewdwr, King of Deheubarth, Malcolm III of Scots, his son Edward and wife Margaret. Later, while William Rufus was in Normandy, ‘the Britons threw off the rule of the French, being unable to bear their tyranny’. Of the expedition of Magnus Barelegs in 1098 he wrote that when Magnus heard ‘the French were minded to ravage the whole land and reduce it to naught, he hastened to attack them’.125 For the Welsh the Conqueror was seen as a great warrior, but by the time of Rufus the French were seen as tyrants to be overthrown. Few in England dared to write explicitly of Norman tyranny. Eadmer, writing of William Rufus, was one notable exception.126 Hostility to the Normans comes through in the views of William of Malmesbury, and in the biting critique of William the Conqueror by the annalist in AngloSaxon Chronicle E version. On the whole, the conquest was viewed as something that happened to England, rather than an event which bound England to Normandy, so the mid

twelfth-century

Warenne-Hyde

Chronicle

which

interweaves their histories is an exception. This was a brief

history of Normandy from 1035 with a miscellaneous series of anecdotes and which paid particular attention to the Warenne family. It is thought to have been composed around the time that the then William IV de Warenne was facing the efforts of Henry II to dispossess him of portions of the vast agglomeration of estates promised to him in the Treaty of 1153 by which his father, King Stephen, had come to terms with Henry.127 The First Crusade and the Principality of Antioch Of the early crusading historians, only Ralph of Caen had much to say about the Norman race and Norman valour. He began to write his Deeds of Tancred around 1112 when Tancred died, and he dedicated the work to his mentor Arnulf of Chocques, who died in 1118.128 The work, which survives only in a single manuscript, was composed in prosimetric. The author claimed that he was working on behalf of Bohemond when he besieged Dyrrachion (Durrës) and Tancred when he relieved the siege of Edessa.129 The two sometimes discussed their enemies and sometimes the cities, Antioch that had been captured by guile at night and Jerusalem by force of arms in the daytime, decrying the invented stories that were circulating. The author said he knew both of them, but Tancred in particular130 whose entourage he joined, probably in 1107.131 Tancred is naturally portrayed in heroic terms, and in a description of his vigil on the Mount of Olives his commitment to the religious motives of his participation is displayed.132 After

Bohemond was captured, Tancred took over Antioch and proceeded to conquer Mamistra, Adana, and Tarsus.133 He also besieged Latakia, which was held by Greek Christians, eventually capturing the city by a ruse.134 From this author we also gain a sense of the cross currents within the crusading army. Bohemond and the Normans were openly sceptical about the authenticity of the Holy Lance, whereas Count Raymond of Toulouse gave his backing to its discoverer, Peter the Hermit.135 Unlike Bohemond and the other leaders, Tancred is said to have evaded doing homage to Emperor Alexios and therefore had no obligation to surrender any gains he had made.136 Ralph of Caen, in contrast to the author of the Gesta

Francorum, named the members of the Grandmesnil family who deserted the siege of Antioch.137 For whom did Ralph write? In the first instance, the answer is presumably the court of Tancred, but perhaps it was intended too for the Hautevilles in Italy. His text obviously reached Italy, because it was used in the Historia

Belli Sacri (The History of the Holy War) composed at Montecassino

in

the

second

quarter

of

the

twelfth

century.138 In fact, as Luigi Russo has argued, the First Crusade did not attract support from the families related to Roger Borsa and Roger ‘the Great Count’.139 The First Crusade was such an exceptional episode that it prompted chroniclers all over western Europe to write. Contemporaries were aware of the diverse origins, both

geographic and social, of those who participated. Most of the contemporary or near-contemporary writers refer to the Crusaders collectively as ‘Franks’, ‘Christians’ or simply ‘we’: it was the collective endeavour that mattered. Conclusions The plethora of narrative sources, composed over a lengthy period, has revealed great diversity, in language most obviously, in the choice of genres, and in perspective. Men (and it was almost all men) wrote with different aims and audiences in view as they sought to record and understand the past. There are themes common to many writers: the sense of God’s relationship to human history is a case in point. Military successes could be interpreted as a sign of God’s approval of the victors, as at Cerami, Hastings, or Jerusalem. Such a view was not always easy to reconcile with the facts. Before the battle of Cerami the Christians were exhorted to remember that all earthly kingdoms belonged to God who could give them to whom He pleased. During the conflict, St George appeared to the Christians and victory was bestowed by God and St Peter.140 Hastings was a defeat inflicted on Christians. It was argued that this was a sign of the moral degeneracy of the English. Duke William heard mass before going into battle and was said to have worn relics round his neck.141 At Jerusalem, despite the indiscriminate slaughter of the inhabitants, the city was recovered for Christians.142

Secondly, chroniclers tended to see the explanation of success or failure in terms of the individual rather than more general causes. Much depended on the calibre of the prince or leader, whose deeds could inspire or warn the next generation. William of Poitiers was a panegyrist, and William of Jumièges in his Deeds of the Norman Dukes ended his account of the Conqueror’s rule with an enthusiastic encomium.143 The recognition that heroes were not without their flaws did not affect this general viewpoint144

and

the

Conqueror’s

shortcomings,

for

instance, were counterbalanced by his achievements. Orderic Vitalis condemned the king’s cruelty in the harrying of northern England.145 His extended account of the king’s final illness and death were dealt with by inventing a speech in which the Conqueror reviewed his past life, justifying military action but recognizing the brutality which had occurred, spelling out his good behaviour towards the church, the appointments he had made, and the monastic communities he had enriched.146 William of Malmesbury assured his reader that he would write ‘nothing to excess, nothing that is not true’. His pen portrait of the king also acknowledged his generosity to the church in founding two abbeys. William’s fidelity to his wife was recognized, but also his greed for money.147 Henry of Huntingdon based his obituary on the sharply critical Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, recognizing both William’s virtues: generosity to the church, and the peace he brought to

England, but also his vices: greed for money, and cruelty to those who poached on his hunting. Above all, this was a picture of unfettered power, ‘stronger than any of the consuls of Normandy, more powerful than any of the kings of England’, who stole from his own people and did not care for their anger.148 Chroniclers, often writing either for patrons or in the hope of patronage, thus worked in a common framework of explanation, justification, and legitimation of Norman conquests. Dudo had created the idea that all of the inhabitants of the region called Normandy were Normans, whatever their ethnic origins.149 The construct evolved as his successors got to work, extending and adapting the story to meet changing circumstances, down to and beyond the time of the Capetian takeover. The heart of the narrative remained what could be seen in retrospect as the golden age of ducal Normandy ending in 1087. It was not coincidence that those who sought to continue the Deeds of the Norman Dukes found it hard to frame their narrative given the contests between the Conqueror’s sons over Normandy, then its takeover by the count of Anjou and incorporation in a Plantagenet empire. Nevertheless, Normans did not lose interest in their past. In the later twelfth century they were conscious of a Norman identity distinct from that of their neighbours even as they became more closely involved with them. Families who lived near the border were forming close connections

with cross-border neighbours.150 The fashion for Gothic architecture was taken up.151 Young clerks flocked to the schools of Paris and young knights to the tournaments of northern France and Flanders. Norman identity was thus experienced by Normans in 1204 in a very different world from that in which it had been constructed some two centuries earlier. As well as time, the other determinant was distance, and the extent to which a sense of being Norman continued to be felt outside Normandy. Some authors did allude to what we might call a wider Norman world. William of Poitiers wrote in the 1070s of Normans who possessed Apulia, Sicily,

attacked

Constantinople,

and

brought

fear

to

Babylon.152 Although William of Jumièges’s version of the

Gesta Normannorum Ducum was essentially focussed on events

in

Normandy

and

France,

Orderic

Vitalis

subsequently inserted material on the Normans in Apulia, and Robert of Torigni introduced stories about Robert I’s pilgrimage to Constantinople.153 In a Latin poem Baudry of Bourgueil had William the Conqueror urge his men to join the expedition to England by recalling past victories over the Manceaux, the Bretons, the Burgundians and the Angevins. ‘Your . . . virtue also rules and restrains the laws of Apulia. The ferocity of Rome trembles at your names, hopes that our Guiscard will be as a thousand men, and grows feverish at the sound of his name.’154 Serlo, canon of Bayeux, wrote a poem about the burning of Bayeux in 1105,

addressing the townsmen who did not show the courage of their ancestors who had fought in Apulia, England, and at Antioch.155 Writing of the Norman deserters at the siege of Antioch, Ralph of Caen reported that up to that time the Normans had had a good reputation, as the glory of the world, victorious over the English, the Sicilians, the Greeks, the Campanians, and Apulians.156 Ralph of Caen was also responsible for a vivid anecdote about Tancred on the Mount of Olives outside Jerusalem. A hermit who was living there asked him about his religious allegiance, fatherland, family and name. Tancred responded that he was ‘a Christian, a Norman, of the family of Guiscard, and Tancred’. The hermit recognized in Tancred a chip off the old block, and swore brotherhood rather than enmity.157 Of all these authors, Orderic Vitalis showed the greatest awareness of a wider Norman world as the scope of his

Ecclesiastical History grew wider. His subject was the history of Christians, especially those families associated with Saint-Evroul and its priories, and whose members travelled to Italy, Spain, or the Near East. He wanted to heighten his readers’ awareness of the interconnectedness of Christians’ lives, experiences, and hopes for salvation. The speeches put into the mouths of leaders addressing their troops before battle were often the occasion for recalling past victories. William of Poitiers wrote briefly that before Hastings Duke William reminded the Normans

of their survival of past dangers, of the nobility of their deeds, and of their great reputation.158 Ralph of Caen had Duke Robert of Normandy before the battle of Dorylaeum remind Bohemond of his martial lineage, and that they should stand together and fight.159 Henry of Huntingdon composed battle orations in his History of the English for Julius Caesar, William the Conqueror, and for leaders at the battle of the Standard and at Lincoln.160 Hervey de Glanville addressed the men besieging Lisbon in 1147 urging them to remember the valour of the Norman race, and referring to Normandy as ‘the mother of our race’.161 Wace’s account of the Normans at the battle of Hastings is comparable.162 One episode often cited in this context is the call to the Normans to remember past victories in the speech addressed to the troops fighting for King Stephen in 1138, who had marched out to face the Scots under their banners, at the battle of the Standard, as reported by both Henry of Huntingdon and Aelred Abbot of Rievaulx.163 In Henry of Huntingdon’s version the army facing King David was told to remember who they were and against whom they were fighting: France, England, Apulia, Jerusalem, and Antioch had all capitulated to the ‘Normans of England, Norman by birth’.164 News about the first major battle on English soil since 1066 circulated quickly. At York Hugh the Chanter, precentor and historian, composed a poem.165 Henry of Huntingdon and Aelred would have had access to

news about the battle. Different accounts would have spread orally and in writing, in versions fashioned for different audiences. The lay magnates present would have been proud to have their deeds remembered. Battle speeches were thus literary creations, but they do indicate that some contemporaries believed in a Norman race capable of great deeds in different theatres of war. Identity was and is complex and multi-stranded. Men travelled and might well have kinsmen as well as contacts in different parts of Europe. Some returned to Normandy or made gifts to Norman churches. Generosity did not always reflect simple nostalgia: a demonstration of wealth and prestige may have been uppermost. In all three theatres of action, Norman identity had to take account not only of relations with the host population, but also with their fellow adventurers, Bretons, French, Flemish etc. These distinctions were reflected, for instance, in the way charters were addressed to different groups.166 Laws and customs were thought to be those of different peoples. Sometimes incomers were simply designated as French rather than Norman. As we have seen (see above, p. 26), in the Welsh chronicle the Brut, the incomers, were described as ‘French’. What becomes apparent from reading narratives about the Normans is the belief that they were a people, a gens, the inhabitants of Normandy. This was how they saw themselves, thanks to Dudo and William of Jumièges, and

this was how others saw them. As such, contemporaries had no difficulty in identifying special characteristics. In a famous passage, William of Malmesbury contrasted a list of their

good

qualities

with

those

of

the

degenerate

English.167 Above all they were a race ‘inured to war, and could hardly live without it’, fierce in rushing against the enemy and if this did not work, using tricks or bribery. Orderic Vitalis put into the mouth of the dying William the Conqueror the warning that the Normans needed to be disciplined and, when they were, conquered all their enemies. Without a firm rule, they tore each other to pieces.168 For Amatus those who left Normandy wanted to have all people under their rule, and so created a great army of foot soldiers and horsemen.169 William of Apulia began his account of the deeds of Robert Guiscard with the statement that it pleased God that Apulia would not long be occupied by the Greeks but by the Normans, ‘distinguished by their warlike knights’.170 That both the Normans and those with whom they came into

contact

saw

them

as

a

people

with

distinct

characteristics, notably their fierceness and skill in war, was significant in several ways. First and most obviously it fostered a sense of solidarity amongst the inhabitants of Normandy. Their memory of their Scandinavian origins was not forgotten, but they were Normans first and foremost.171 This meant in turn that Normandy was perceived as an entity, not a collection of counties which might be

subdivided, as was the case with some other assemblages (see below, p. 48). The counts of Rouen and their successors forged that sense of unity and profited from it. The extent to which that sense of Norman identity survived distance and time from the duchy is debatable. In Italy even the earliest commentators, whilst rehearsing the origins of the Normans, moved quickly on to their deeds. In Antioch only Ralph of Caen highlighted a Norman origin for his hero Tancred, and the author’s own Norman origin may have been the deciding factor here. In England, where they were most numerous and dominant, the Normans arguably stood out longer in the local population. They dominated the aristocracy and the top jobs in the church, and they spoke a different language. As late as 1135 there were rumours of plots to kill all the Normans.172 However, as Laura Ashe has pointed out, history could be refocussed on the country, rather than on race, and this could be seen as a reflection of a racially mixed population.173 By the later twelfth century it seems that the ruling elite did identify themselves as English rather than Norman, but the processes

of

accommodation

and

integration

were

protracted, proceeding by fits and starts.174 This chapter has focussed on those perceptions of the Normans which have been seen as embodying Normanitas or ‘the Norman myth’.175 Such perceptions had a role to play in stiffening Norman sinews on the eve of battle or intimidated their enemies. It has been argued, however,

that they were rooted in a special and distinctive character of Norman society, and in the following chapter these ideas are examined in greater detail. Were the Normans so successful because they came from a society uniquely well organized for war?

CHAPTER TWO

THE MAKING OF DUCAL NORMANDY Norman emigration and O military success lies in the nature of Norman society NE POSSIBLE WAY OF EXPLAINING

and of the Norman people. How far were they, as Haskins put it, ‘warriors and adventurers in untamed lands and upon uncharted seas . . . organizers of states and rulers of peoples’?1 David Bates’s Normandy before 1066 published in 1982 challenged many previously held assumptions by arguing that there was nothing exceptional about Norman society other than its degree of organization.2 This view was opposed by R. Allen Brown writing shortly afterwards. He argued that Norman society was exceptional in its revitalized church, new aristocracy, the domination of a military elite tied by feudal bonds to their lords and ultimately to the duke. In other words, it was the reality of Norman society that explained their conquests, not a Norman myth.3 Pierre Bauduin has explored the years before and after 911 during which Frankish leaders negotiated with Viking raiders, and the circumstances in which Rollo and his followers were given land.4 Thus contextualized, the treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte in 911 was not unprecedented. Bauduin has also demonstrated that the old notion according to which Rollo and his successors were ceded territory in three main stages is not borne out by detailed research on different sectors of Norman frontiers.5 There

has been work, too, on the reconstruction of the Norman church and the foundation or refoundation of monasteries, moderating previous ideas about total devastation in the Viking era.6 The idea that the Norman aristocracy of the tenth and eleventh century was both ‘new’ and ‘feudal’ has been cast into question: the former might in part simply reflect an upsurge of evidence from the eleventh century, and the latter has been shown not to reflect the flexible character of bonds between lords and men.7 Particular attention

has

been

given

to

understanding

the

key

narratives, by Dudo and William of Jumièges, and those written documents, especially charters, which throw light on the governance of ducal Normandy.8 The history of early Normandy

has

thus

been

considerably

reshaped:

its

emergence and construction are thought to be more complex than used to be thought, and the development of Norman society, and especially of a surplus of young warriors, more like that of neighbouring regions. The

origins

of

Normandy

lay

in

a

Scandinavian

settlement, whether as a grant or, more likely, a recognition of existing reality, given that by 911 Rollo had been in France for some time. Little is known about the origins of Rollo and his followers; Dudo refers to Dacians, which probably in this context means Danes.9 Rollo himself may have come from Norway, or possibly Norse settlements in the Hebrides.10 The number of newcomers, the chronology of settlement, the relationship between the various groups

in Normandy and with other regions in the Viking world, and the importance of ongoing ties with their homelands, have all been debated. In the context of this book, the key issues are numbers, relationships between Northmen and Franks, and the importance to Norman history and identity of ongoing Scandinavian ties. The region that was to become Normandy had been prosperous under the Merovingians and Carolingians. There are known to have been royal residences at Rouen, Étrépagny, and Vaudreuil.11 Rouen was an important city, the seat of a bishop and a mint, with its own customs official, and merchants who traded along the Atlantic coast, and with the ports of southern England.12 There were important monasteries in the region such as SaintWandrille, Jumièges, Saint-Ouen de Rouen and, to the north, Fécamp. In the ninth century the region came under attack both by Bretons, who established themselves in the Cotentin and Avranchin, and by the Vikings.13 The earliest reference to a Viking fleet was in 820 in the mouth of the Seine, and from 840 the raids intensified, with attacks on Rouen and the churches.14 Those who attacked the Seine valley probably came from Denmark, Dudo’s Dacia. It is difficult to judge how far Viking attacks disrupted the region. There are gaps in the succession lists of bishops, some of whom are known to have been killed, while churches were robbed and monks went into exile. Towns were attacked, but current thinking

is that the local population was not completely wiped out.15 Charlemagne’s vast empire had been partitioned into three in 843, and with the western portion falling to one branch of the family, which had to face repeated Viking attacks, most dramatically on Paris in 885–6. The traditional year for the foundation of Normandy is 911, when Rollo was ceded land by Charles the Simple, King of the west Franks.16 There was nothing novel about treaties between Franks and Vikings; sometimes the Vikings were given tribute, or they agreed to be converted to Christianity, but the problem did not go away. Fleets were able to overwinter and returned to the attack the following spring. At Saint-Clair-sur-Epte, Rollo agreed to be baptized and (according to Dudo), married the king’s daughter Gisla,17 although he was also said to have married Poppa, daughter of a powerful prince, Berenger II, Count of Bayeux and Rennes, and Marquis of Neustria, the Carolingian region which had included Normandy, who had been active against Vikings in Brittany and west Normandy.18 Whether either or both of these unions occurred is unlikely.19 Rollo’s son was given the Christian name of William before Rollo himself had agreed to accept baptism, again suggesting that he had prior links with the Christian Franks.20 When Rollo was baptized, Robert II, Marquis of Neustria, acted as godfather and gave Rollo his new Christian name of Robert.21 It looks, therefore, as though Rollo was regarded

as a Viking with whom the Franks could do business, and this helps to explain his integration into Frankish circles. Dudo of Saint-Quentin provides the main narrative for these and following events.22 Other than Dudo there are brief annals by Flodoard, Richer of Rheims, Adhémar of Chabannes, the Planctus or Lament for William Longsword, and the Discovery and Miracles of St Vulfran [Wulfram], a handful of charters, place-names, coins, and the results of archaeological excavations.23 According to Dudo, the land ceded to Rollo by Charles was all that from the Epte to the sea, probably, therefore, the land on either side of the river Seine.24 We can never know precisely how many incomers settled in the region at this point or later in the tenth century or where they came from. Most of the evidence comes from Scandinavian elements in the language, or from placenames.

Undoubtedly

Old

Norse

words

entered

the

language, and place-name studies, though needing careful handling, indicate that settlement was thickest in the Pays de

Caux;

elsewhere

there

were

only

pockets

of

population.25 However, material remains to date are few, and their absence is in striking contrast with other regions where

people

from

Scandinavia

were

established,

especially in England.26 One explanation for the absence of identifiably Viking sites and artefacts in Normandy is that the incomers were relatively few and integrated with the Frankish population

relatively quickly. This in turn suggests there may only have been a brief period of discontinuity in governance.27 Later evidence shows the dukes exercising Carolingian rights of jurisdiction, but it is not clear how far these were later revivals when the dukes were stronger, or whether they had been using them from the start.28 Another explanation is that the victorious Rouen-based Vikings chose to suppress signs of Scandinavian culture such as the hogback tombs, oval brooches and other jewellery found elsewhere. Lesley Abrams has pointed out that there may have been much more variation in the timing and nature of settlement than we might suppose from reading Dudo, who presented the idea of a unified Normandy under its Danish leaders.29 Those who settled in the Cotentin, for instance, are thought to have been Norse rather than Danish, and may have come via the Irish Sea route rather than Denmark. In the following decades it was touch and go whether the counts of Rouen as they called themselves would be swept away in the struggles between the kings of the west Franks, the dukes of Neustria, the counts of Vermandois and Flanders and Viking groups, all competing for power in northern France.30 According to Flodoard, the Northmen from Rouen ravaged the region round Beauvais. In 924 Rollo was said to have been ceded the Bessin, the region round Bayeux and (less likely) Maine.31 Meanwhile King Charles the Simple was trying to hold on to power, but was

defeated and imprisoned by Robert, son of Robert the Strong, Marquis of Neustria, who was in turn killed in battle against the Vikings in 923. Towards the end of his life Rollo was said to have handed over the reins of power to his son William Longsword, who formally succeeded in 933. This was the most critical era for the survival of Normandy, as William faced opposition from Normans who were not prepared to submit to his authority, and from his powerful neighbour, Count Arnulf I of Flanders, at whose hands he was murdered. A force of Normans led by a man named Riulf advanced as far as Rouen. When William offered terms, cosovereignty and a place in his counsels, Riulf told the envoy to say to William and to ‘all his people’ to leave the city and go to his Frankish kinsmen. William was to be their lord no longer ‘because he is alien to us and hateful’. He could not promise them land because ‘what is not owned cannot be given’.32 With the assistance of a man named Bernard the Dane, one of his trusted associates based at Rouen, William was able to defeat Riulf.33 That this story was told by Dudo is revealing of the Normans’ view of their past: William Longsword was seen as alien to other Normans because he had Frankish kinsmen. Nothing is known of Riulf outside the pages of Dudo, but references to William as an alien who had to call on a Bernard the Dane, about whom nothing is known other than that he was based in Rouen, to suppress the revolt, are significant.

Dudo portrayed this success as a turning point for William, after which he ruled his lands in peace.34 But trouble brewed over the castle of Montreuil-sur-Mer, nowadays in the Pas-de-Calais and thus beyond what became the Norman frontier. The castle had been taken first by Count Arnulf I of Flanders, then by William who restored it to its former lord, a man named Herluin. In 942 Arnulf lured William to a peace conference on an island in the river Somme, where he was murdered.35 Dudo’s presentation is that of a Christian prince, martyred by a wicked rival. In fact there was an ongoing struggle for control over these lands between William and Arnulf. William’s action at Montreuil had provoked Count Arnulf too far.36 William’s son Richard was only a child when his father died, a moment of supreme danger for Normandy. King Louis went to Rouen and assumed the guardianship of the child, an act resisted by some of the Rouen Vikings, who had reverted to paganism.37 With the support of Christian Vikings, Hugh the Great, Duke of the Franks, captured Évreux.38

Meanwhile

a

Viking

king

named

Setric

(Sigtryggr) and his lieutenant Turmod arrived in the valley of the river Seine, probably from the kingdom of York, but both were killed by King Louis.39 A man named Harold set himself up as an independent power at Bayeux, which was attacked by Hugh the Great40 while King Louis attacked

Rouen.41 For a time the prospects of the young Richard were bleak. The tide began to turn in his favour when Harold captured Louis and delivered him to Hugh the Great, who had become Richard’s father-in-law.42 Pressure on the south-east frontier of Normandy came from Theobald the Trickster, Count of Blois-Chartres, who took control of Évreux.43 Rouen itself came under attack and Richard was forced to call for assistance on his Viking allies. Their ravaging in the end brought Lothar, son and successor of Louis IV, and Theobald to peace negotiations. In retrospect the treaty of 966 was to be a turning point for the Normans, Évreux also being recovered at this stage.44 What could not have been foreseen at the time was that Lothar’s successor (Lothar V) was only to hold the throne for a matter of months, dying in 987. Hugh the Great’s son, also Hugh, thereupon assumed the French throne as the first of the Capetian kings. For the first fifty years of its existence, therefore, the fate of Normandy was tied up with the complex power struggles in northern France between rival powers, and the situation only stabilized after 966. The following three decades were critical in the formation of ducal Normandy. Richard, like some of the other powerful princes, began to call himself not count but duke or marquis.45 His great achievements were to stay in power, to stabilize the frontiers of Normandy and to assert his authority within them.46 He had the advantage of a base

in prosperous Rouen, ‘famous for its Frankish and English trade’, and especially that with England.47 His relations with Scandinavian allies were such that he could call on them for support in an emergency. The first of these achievements, the extension of the boundaries of his rule which had almost reached their historic limits at the time of his death, was achieved by a mixture of conciliation and coercion. The old view was that the duchy was created in a three-stage process: the original grant in 911 from the Epte to the sea and, based on Flodoard, two westward extensions, the land between the Risle and Orne in 924, and the Cotentin in 933.48 In fact the process was both complicated and protracted, as Pierre Bauduin has demonstrated through detailed studies of the frontiers of Normandy, towards Picardy, the Vexin along the river Epte, and in the south-east, along the rivers Eure and Avre.49 The far west, the Cotentin peninsula, was the region most remote from Rouen. Along the northern coastline there were Scandinavian settlers, who were probably, unlike those in upper Normandy, from the Irish Sea littoral and thus of Norwegian or Norse-Irish origin as well as Scandinavian England. A turning point so far as the dukes were concerned was the marriage of Richard I and Gunnor, who is thought to come from a powerful family of Scandinavian descent.50 Elsewhere the frontier was slower to stabilize, especially along the southern marches, the

border between Maine, the Chartrain, and the kingdom. The lords of Bellême, to the south of Normandy, assembled a major lordship which was only aligned with the duchy through the marriage of Roger II of Montgomery, a loyal ally of William II, to Mabel, the heiress of Bellême.51 As the borders stabilized, the outlines of an aristocracy begins to emerge. Some families, like the Montgomerys, were later to identify themselves as being descended from the Northmen.52 Others, like the Giroie, were Frankish by origin (see below, p. 58).53 It used to be thought that this was essentially a new aristocracy and, in Brown’s words, ‘without these men there would have been little Norman achievement’.54 The problem here is lack of evidence for the origins of most, and the likelihood is of a mix of ‘old’, that is, Carolingian, and ‘new’, of whatever origin.55 Of particular importance in the formation of the new regime were links to the dukes themselves. Those related to Richard I were called the Richardidae, a term already used by Dudo.56 As well as Richard II, Richard’s illegitimate children

included

Godfrey

and

William,

who

were

recognized as counts, respectively of Brionne on the river Risle, and Eu near the mouth of the river Bresle.57 His sons by Gunnor were Richard II, who succeeded him, Robert, who was appointed archbishop of Rouen around 989 or 990 and was at the same time count of Évreux, and Mauger, who became count of Corbeil, south-east of Paris, through marriage. His daughters made prestigious marriages;

Emma married King Æthelred of England, at a time when the king needed an ally to protect the country from Danish attacks. Another daughter Hawise married Geoffrey, Count of Rennes, whose sister Judith married Richard II, the double marriage thus strengthening Norman influence over Brittany. A third daughter, Matilda, married Odo II, Count of Blois (and several other counties), a marriage which, though short-lived and childless, was intended to assist friendly relations with another powerful neighbour.58 The twelfth-century chronicler Robert of Torigni added to his version of the Deeds of the Norman Dukes details of Gunnor’s children, and then went on to name the marriages of her sisters into the Norman elite, then her nephews and nieces.59 Kinship networks were at the heart of Richard’s power and continued to be so.60 What

is

unknown

is

just

how

disruptive

the

establishment of the new social order was. Parts of Normandy were relatively thickly populated, and disruption caused by Viking settlement was probably not of long duration. Place name evidence shows how in the long term new settlements came into being as forests were cleared and land put under the plough, but this evidence cannot be dated precisely.61 It is hard to judge how prosperous the new lords were, and how extensive their rights over the peasantry. The availability of slaves, it might be supposed, provided a ready pool of labour on terms advantageous to lords. That slaves were to be found in Normandy is shown

by an early eleventh-century poem about Moriuht, an Irishman whose lover had been taken by the Vikings and sold in Normandy. Countess Gunnor advised him to go to Vaudreuil, a settlement on the river Eure near its junction with the Seine which, the poet said, was ‘bursting with the merchandise supplied by the Vikings’. When he found his lover, Gunnor said, if she had been sold, she would be restored to him, at a price. He did indeed he find his lover working at a loom, and was reunited with her and their child.62 Slave labour was thus clearly used in one centre, and it is unlikely to have been a solitary example.63 Soon after the death of Richard I a peasants’ revolt took place, an episode which has always attracted interest as one of the few recorded in this period. Lords, possibly chiefly those along the Seine valley, were reported to be imposing restrictions on customary rights in woodlands and waterways.64

The

peasants

formed

assemblies

which

passed decrees granting free access. The response of Duke Richard II was to send Count Ralph of Ivry to deal with them. He seized the envoys and cut off their hands and feet.65 Such draconian repression shows that the peasants lost out, but although later some peasants were heavily burdened, they were not legally serfs.66 It is difficult to know, therefore, how prosperous or otherwise the Norman aristocracy was in the later tenth century in a way that might throw light on family strategies.

The number of children who might survive to maturity was always a gamble, and a balance had to be struck between preserving the nucleus of the family lands for transmission to a successor, and making provision for younger sons and daughters. Strategies had to be flexible to cope with failure of heirs or, in effect, too many children.67 Whether better-off families were able to raise more children to maturity as a result of increasing political stability or perhaps better harvests is unclear. The casualty rate amongst sons could be high, as the fate of the seven sons of Giroie showed, retailed by Orderic Vitalis who knew the family’s history well.68 Giroie’s lands lay in a region contested by local lords as noted above, and none of his seven sons lived to old age. The eldest, Arnold, and the sixth, Hugh, were killed accidentally. William, the second son, became head of the family but was blinded and mutilated by one of his enemies, and became a monk at the abbey of Bec. The third son, Fulk, was killed whilst acting as a member of a bodyguard. Robert, the fourth son, held the castle of Saint-Cénéri against Duke William and died by poison. The fifth son, Ralph, spent many years in study in France and Italy and became a monk. Giroie, the youngest, died mad. Even the most pessimistic parent could not have foreseen this casualty rate. Geoffrey Malaterra, writing in the closing years of the eleventh century and from southern Italy, believed that partible inheritance, by which fathers were expected to

provide for all their sons, was a factor leading to emigration to Italy.69 This view ran counter to that put forward in the twentieth century by Georges Duby, who argued that there was a shift away from wide kinship groups to a narrower focus. Families deliberately chose to channel land towards one son, usually the eldest, leaving their younger siblings to make their own way – sons as soldiers of fortune and daughters through marriage, only a few entering the church.70 According to this view there was a readily available number of younger sons who were to be the soldiers of fortune and Crusaders, fighting on the fringes of Christendom. The difficulty with this hypothesis was the lack of firm evidence for norms of inheritance as early as tenth-century Normandy. By the twelfth century it was more usual for land to be divided among sons, with the eldest performing homage and service for the whole, a practice known as parage. Only in the Pays de Caux was there male primogeniture.71 Daughters only inherited if there were no sons. There was obviously a tendency to keep lands together where possible, and that might well lead

to

favouring

primogeniture,

but

there

is

little

indication that custom had as yet hardened into law, and it is far more likely that in Normandy, as elsewhere in northern France, arrangements were kept flexible. What other possibilities were there for younger sons, unable to make a wealthy marriage? One option was to delay marriage, or perhaps to enter the church. The

problem with the latter avenue (apart from personal vocation, of course) was that it was not cost-free in material terms to the family, even if there were spiritual benefits.72 Some younger sons could be provided with small portions of land. In theory it might have been possible to bring new land into cultivation, or to set up as traders, but here we come up against social expectations. Would young men, raised in lordly households and expensively equipped with swords and horses, have shunned the idea of farming or trading? One interesting passage in King Alfred’s preface to St Augustine’s Soliloquies speaks of the man who, having built a village on land leased to him by his lord, likes to stay there sometimes and go hunting, fowling and fishing, supporting himself until, through his lord’s mercy, he acquired bookland (land held by book, or charter) and an inheritance.73 In this context the idea of a man becoming a farmer did not seem inconceivable, but there may have been a loss of face in so doing. It may have seemed a better option to seek one’s fortune as a soldier, even if this meant leaving home. Dudo certainly thought so, writing of the early Northmen that ‘surplus’ sons had to leave.74 The social problem of young men, armed but landless, was nothing new. Bede had written of those who, on reaching puberty, did not keep to the monastic life but either left the country and went overseas or else spent their time in loose living and fornication.75 In an honourbased society, leaving to pursue a career in arms would

have meant saving face, and the possibility of leaving with companions would have mitigated isolation and risk. From this perspective it is interesting to return to Malaterra’s account of the arrival in Italy of the sons of Tancred of Hauteville. Writing decades after the event, he clearly had not been able to glean much by way of factual information about Tancred’s family writing only that he was of outstanding lineage and had inherited his estate.76 Later in his Deeds of Count Roger he returned to Tancred’s career, ‘wandering among the courts of princes’ as a warrior. Whilst a member of the household of Duke Richard II he had been present when the duke was hunting boar and had killed the boar to spare the hounds from further slaughter. He fled because it was customary to leave the boar to be killed by the count, but was identified by the hilt of his sword which had been impaled on the boar’s head. Duke Richard was impressed by the deed and pardoned Tancred’s effrontery. Tancred gained respect rather than punishment, and was put in command of ten men.77 Was the author recounting a story passed down in the Hauteville family, or perhaps recalling boar hunts of antiquity? Either way, it demonstrated that Tancred had been in the count’s service (proximity to the ruler) and had been promoted with men under him for his courage. Malaterra needed to explain why so many of Tancred’s twelve sons had gone to Italy. There were five sons from his first marriage to Muriel and seven from the second to

Fressenda.

Fressenda

had

‘embraced

with

love’

her

stepsons, but they decided to leave, fearing fighting over the patrimony and feeling that they were stronger than their younger brothers.78 The sons of the first marriage certainly left before their younger brothers, presumably because they felt there were limited prospects at home. The younger brothers, he wrote, followed the elder ones having heard of their successes. Robert Guiscard went about 1047, and Roger, his youngest brother, some ten years after that. Only two of the brothers stayed behind, so that the inheritance would not be alienated from the family.79 The Normans certainly fostered an image of themselves as fierce warriors. As William of Malmesbury put it, ‘they were a race inured to war’ who ‘could hardly live without it’.80 In the deathbed valedictory speech Orderic invented for William the Conqueror the same idea was expressed: the

Normans

fought

keenly

and

overcame

all

their

enemies.81 So the question has to be asked whether this was just hype, or whether the Normans really did excel at war? Warfare involved a mastery of the skills of fighting both on foot and on horseback, of tactics and strategy, of the arts of fortification and siege warfare. These skills required dedication and talent, but they did not depend on

recherché knowledge. The ability to fight on horseback with swords and spears was widely practised in Europe. Coordinating horsemen to fight in groups or to launch

cavalry charges, especially with lances held under the arm (couched) was a more difficult technique to acquire and necessitated both stirrups and saddles which could keep the rider in position. The Normans had certainly acquired these skills, which were employed at Civitate in 1053 and, it seems, at Hastings in 1066.82 Training took place in lordly retinues, perhaps a kinsman’s. It was not quick: young boys could expect to spend several years in a household. Nor was it cheap. A mounted warrior needed a warhorse, other horses for riding and transporting gear, and servants. It has been suggested that the Normans were particularly interested in breeding warhorses.83 They and other princes sought out Spanish horses, probably for their Arab blood, and it is known that William the Conqueror was given horses from the Auvergne, Gascony, and Spain.84 Sally Harvey has recently argued that although the Norman leaders would have had expensive horses of the highest quality, most of those used at Hastings were probably less so, and likely to have been smaller than the later great warhorse. She pointed out that in the Bayeux Tapestry where horsemen are given a great deal of prominence, most of the horses look small in relation to their riders. The comment by the south Italian chronicler Amatus of Montecassino that Richard Count of Aversa, one of the first Norman lords in Italy, was known to ride a small horse, is also relevant here.85 It seems likely, then, that knowledge of fighting on

horseback, and the possession of high-quality mounts, is unlikely to have been confined to the Normans. Moreover, however desirable top-class horses were, on campaign and in battle there were inevitably casualties. Knowledge

of

siege

warfare,

with

the

requisite

understanding of construction, logistics, the organization of labour and the building of siege engines, was unlikely to have been better in Normandy than elsewhere. Indeed, there were relatively few private castles in tenth-century Normandy, and the Normans might actually have been less well informed about siege warfare than their neighbours. As we shall see, Robert Guiscard and his brother Count Roger arrived in Italy as young men and had to learn the art of siege warfare on the job (see below, pp. 75, 78, 81–2, 84). This chapter began with a question about unique or special features of Norman society which might have lain behind the image they cultivated of a race of warriors. Normandy was only one of the tenth-century regions of northern France where counts were competing for power with each other whilst seeking to maintain authority over lesser lords. Some regions were relatively large, like Flanders and Anjou. Some were assemblages of counties which came together, like Blois-Chartres-Châteaudun, or came

together

and

broke

up,

like

Amiens-Valois-

Vermandois. In smaller counties, like Maine and Boulogne which neighboured Normandy, counts fought for authority

through making alliances, acting as patrons of monastic houses, and selecting candidates for bishoprics.86 Flanders, for instance, was a ready source of soldiers for hire. The county was a composite territory, made up of several which had been part of the kingdoms of the west Franks and the east.87 There were strong links between Flanders and England in the eleventh century.88 Count Baldwin V (1035–71) had close connections with Earl Godwin and his family. When the earl was exiled he took refuge at Bruges and assembled a fleet for his return to England in 1052. His son Tostig married Baldwin’s daughter Judith, and the pair retreated to Flanders in 1065, Tostig returning with a fleet in 1066.89 Baldwin must have been gambling on Tostig’s success, as he did not formally back his other son-in-law William’s expedition in that year.90 Nevertheless Flemings, some of whom may have attached themselves to Count Eustace of Boulogne, did take part and settled in England in the late eleventh century.91 Henry I also concluded a treaty with the count of Flanders for the supply of a thousand knights.92 Flemings were to settle in Pembrokeshire, northern England and Scotland.93 There were therefore many soldiers and sailors available for hire in Flanders for those with deep pockets. Count Robert the Frisian was said to have promised Cnut IV, King of Denmark, a fleet of six hundred ships for his planned invasion of England in 1085.94 In the following year Robert

went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem and on his return to Constantinople supplied Emperor Alexios with five hundred knights to fight the Turks.95 Some may have remained after the battle of Levounion in 1091. According to a later account of a miracle of St Olaf, Norse Varangians had with them Franks and Flemings.96 Brittany too produced knights who fought in Italy, England and Antioch. It had been an independent kingdom which had come under Carolingian overlordship, and been subjected to Viking attacks.97 In 921 Robert the Strong had ceded Brittany to the Vikings and then apparently to the Normans. Alan, a descendant of the old kings of Brittany, established his headquarters at Nantes where he was challenged by the counts of Rennes to the east, and by pressure from powerful neighbours, the dukes of the Normans in the Cotentin, the counts of Anjou and of Blois. Ralph the Staller, Earl of East Anglia under Edward the Confessor, had a Breton father and possibly an English mother. He was a royal steward who survived the transition to Norman rule, though his son rebelled in 1075 and was expelled from the kingdom.98 Bretons followed William the Conqueror to England.99 Some were granted great estates and a further group was later established by Henry I.100 There may even have been a stronger motive for Bretons to emigrate than Normans, given the more limited supply of good farming land.

Manceaux, men from the county of Maine, were also on the move. For instance, Richard Barton has shown how Robert, a brother of Geoffrey, Lord of Mayenne, travelled to Campania and witnessed charters in and around Capua between 1091 and 1108. A few years later his nephew Geoffrey, Lord of Acerra and Suessula, gave land to the church of Saint-Serge of Angers.101 The two features of Norman society that were distinctive were the Scandinavian ancestry of its rulers and its political cohesion. The conversion of their leaders to Christianity seems to have been part of a relatively rapid process of integration into Norman society.102 It is not clear if the newcomers formed a new elite whilst the native peasants were Franks. Historians of the Vikings have stressed the idea of diaspora, pointing to evidence of a ‘pan Scandinavian culture’.103 The difficulty here is, as noted above, the lack of material evidence in Normandy to demonstrate that the settlers continued to use Viking brooches or arm-rings, or the influence of a Viking style on Norman sculpture. Over time the counts of Rouen were able to assert their authority over independent Scandinavian groups based at Bayeux and in the Cotentin peninsula. It is difficult to know how

important

ongoing

relations

were

between

Scandinavian settlers in Normandy and the Scandinavian world.104 Nor do we do not know how many continued to arrive

after

the

initial

wave.

This

is

important

for

understanding the possibilities open to Franks to prosper in the new regime and also the degree of mobility of young males. It was hardly the case that migration from Scandinavia to Normandy stabilized and then young men emigrated from Normandy to pursue careers elsewhere. Although undocumented, a highly fluid situation with waves of incomers and emigrants was more likely. From that perspective Norman emigrants were only a few generations removed from those who had come from Scandinavia, and were driven by much the same factors as their Viking ancestors. Ties with Scandinavia remained important, as the friendship

between

Richard

II

and

Swein

Forkbeard

indicates. King Æthelred of England was particularly concerned about the availability of Norman ports to Danish fleets and for this reason concluded a peace with Richard I in 991.105 A Danish fleet was nevertheless in Normandy in 1000, prompting an attack by Æthelred on the Cotentin two years later and, as tension eased, the king’s marriage to Richard’s daughter Emma.106 Little is known about the backstory here. It seems quite likely that Danish ships might have brought a good deal of wealth to Normandy in the form of slaves or silver, and might have provided a ready

market

for

Norman

food

products.

A

further

speculation is that the duke in particular might have benefitted through tolls. Dudo’s emphasis on the Danish origins of the Normans was particularly apposite for

Richard I and Richard II and may conceal other ongoing links with Scandinavia. Even if the memory of a Scandinavian past remained potent, that does not in itself explain Norman emigration. Warrior ideals and values were, after all, broadly similar, even if tactics and equipment differed. However, the construction of an idea of Normannia reflected and boosted ducal authority over the whole region, and it is the growing political cohesion in later tenth-century Normandy that is striking. This could only have been achieved by creating a network of allies round the ducal dynasty and clearly, as the dukes favoured only some, others lost out. Some of the local struggles were about frontier territories. Like other princes the dukes contested power over neighbouring territories, such as Montreuil-sur-Mer to the north, or Évreux to the south-east, and they believed they had overlordship over the Bretons.107 Normandy’s borders were ringed by other principalities and lordships, including Boulogne, Ponthieu, Amiens, the French Vexin, Perche, Bellême, and Maine and, like other princes, the dukes fought

to

resist

encroachments

and

to

assert

their

overlordship where possible. What was striking was that during these struggles Normandy remained intact, in contrast with the territories of the counts of Amiens-ValoisVexin,

Vermandois-Meaux-Soissons,

or

Blois-Chartres-

Châteaudun-Tours, where powerful lords put together

assemblages of counties but which split up again as the succession failed for one reason or another.108 Over time ducal authority grew stronger. The duke was extremely wealthy both in land and tolls, especially from Rouen and its hinterland. He also exercised a commanding influence over appointments to the archbishopric of Rouen. Richard I’s son Robert was a long-serving archbishop of Rouen (989–1037), and by 990 there was a full complement of bishops once again.109 Richard continued the work of his father

and

grandfather

of

reviving

and

protecting

Benedictine monasteries.110 He was a patron of Saint-Ouen at Rouen, of Fécamp, where there was a ducal residence adjacent to the abbey, and of Mont-Saint-Michel.111 By Richard II’s time there was a network of ducal agents and vicomtes were appointed to administer the duke’s rights and collect his revenues.112 Coins were issued in the duke’s name from the time of William Longsword.113 There were a few castles by the early eleventh century, at Mortain, Ivry, Évreux and Eu, but relatively few baronial strongholds which could have been used to establish independent lordships.114 In geographical terms, ducal authority was strongest in upper Normandy, especially the Pays de Caux compared with the Cotentin peninsula and the southern borderlands. It took time to bind the regions into a web of ducal authority. Mark Hagger has demonstrated from charter evidence how the dukes were intervening in the Cotentin,

and how the marriage of Richard I and Gunnor marked a turning point in this respect. By the eleventh century Richard II, Robert and William the Conqueror were giving their own men land in the Cotentin, and challenging those who opposed them. Serlo, the son of Tancred de Hauteville, for instance, took refuge in Brittany to escape the wrath of Duke Robert I, and then went to south Italy.115 William Werlenc, Count of Mortain and a grandson of Richard I, was disinherited and exiled by Duke William for treason. It was said that he promised one of his household knights called Robert Bigot that he would be rich (through plunder) if he stayed in Normandy rather than travel to Italy to make his fortune. When Robert recounted this promise to the duke, the count of Mortain was exiled.116 William Werlenc’s successor was the duke’s half-brother, Robert.117 As ducal authority grew stronger, individuals had to decide whether to cooperate or to resist. The Norman aristocracy formed a tight inner group from at least the later tenth century. The glue which bound these men to the dukes was an oath of allegiance and their relationship was based on loyalty and service. In return they might expect to benefit from some ducal generosity, which could take the tangible form of a gift of land, held as a benefice, a

beneficium, later called a fief, a feodum.118 However, as yet there is no indication that the landed families believed they held all their land of the duke, that is, that they did not own their land but held it as tenants. The ties that bound were a

fluid mix of bonds of friendship and kinship as well as being rooted in material considerations. It meant, too, that the dukes

were

unlikely

to

confiscate

a

family’s

land

permanently: better for the recalcitrant to leave for a time or, in the worst-case scenario, promote a more reliably loyal kinsman. Stresses and strains within the ruling elite were beginning to appear during the last years of Richard II’s life. One early exile in Italy was a man named Rodulf, possibly Ralph de Tosny, who went to Rome where he was recruited by Pope Benedict VIII (1012–24).119 Tensions increased during the rule of Robert I and the first years of the young William the Conqueror’s with an increasing number of cases of exile reported. One such case was that of five brothers. While details vary, one of them, Gilbert Buatère according to Amatus, Osmund Drengot according to Orderic, had fallen foul of Duke Robert I by killing a man named William Repostel, a relative of Duke Richard II, who had been boasting that he had seduced Osmund’s daughter. Osmund was exiled by the duke and, with his four brothers, took refuge in Brittany, then England, and finally Italy.120 The southern marches of the duchy were another region of contested power, and it was from here that the families of Grandmesnil and Giroie came. In 1060 Arnold of Echauffour of the Giroie family was exiled with Ralph de Tosny, Hugh and Robert de Grandmesnil (see below, pp. 58– 9, 62).121 The lords of Bellême controlled the bishopric of

Sées and established a string of castles along the southern border. The Conqueror’s solution to this competition on the southern borders was to arrange a marriage between Mabel de Bellême and Roger of Montgomery, one of his most loyal lieutenants. The chronicler Orderic Vitalis, who knew the Giroie and Grandmesnil well, believed that the arranged marriage provoked the troubles and eventual exile of their family members.122 The Normandy from which young men set forth in the late tenth and early eleventh century was turbulent and violent, but it was not uniquely so. Young Norman men were not unusual in seeking their fortunes abroad, especially if they had run into difficulty at home, and they were not, it seems, uniquely excellent warriors. It is their successes that need explanation, rather than the fact that they emigrated. The direction of travel of these ‘swords for hire’ was determined by the likely prospects, and their contacts.

CHAPTER THREE

SWORDS FOR HIRE young men to become T soldiers of fortune and there for were numerous potential HERE WAS PLENTY OF OPPORTUNITY

paymasters. And there were certainly wars aplenty. The question was, however, where there were paymasters willing and able to recruit mercenaries. The Scandinavian fleets were, as far as we know, manned by home-grown warriors. The large armies recruited in Ottonian Germany were recruited from within the empire. It was in the Byzantine empire, where increasing use was being made of mercenaries, that we hear of Normans in south Italy and then in Anatolia. A few Normans went to Spain to fight for Christian rulers against the Muslims, perhaps informed by pilgrims to the shrine of St James at Compostela or by contacts between the abbey of Cluny and the Iberian kingdoms. In the tenth century, fleets from Scandinavia travelled along the western seaboard of the British Isles and further afield in the north Atlantic. The large fleets from Denmark resumed attacking England from the 980s, whilst others from Norway travelled the northern route round the British Isles. In Saxony the Ottonian emperors raised armies to fight against the Hungarians. Bulgars and then Pechenegs moved into the region of the Elbe while, in the eleventh century, Seljuks moved into Anatolia. Few rulers could afford to hire mercenaries in any number. The armies of western kings and princes were composed of a

core of household retainers plus the contingents of the great men and those who owed service in return for their land. Nevertheless there were still opportunities: in the armies of the Byzantine emperors, in Spain, fighting against the Muslims, and in Italy, where there were many wealthy paymasters. In all three we find Normans, and tracing their careers and family histories helps us to understand their motives. The

army

fielded

by

Byzantine

emperors

was

reorganized in the time of Basil II (‘the Bulgar Slayer’).1 It comprised both infantrymen and cavalry, including the heavily armed kataphractoi. There were locally raised levies and increasing numbers of mercenaries recruited from outside the empire’s frontiers as well as inside.2 The most famous infantry corps was the Varangian guard recruited from the Vikings of Rus, from Scandinavia and, in the later eleventh century, from England.3 One of the most famous eleventh-century commanders of the Varangians was Harald Hardrada, who fled from Norway after the battle of Stiklestad, travelled to Kiev and thence to Constantinople. He fought for the Byzantine general George Maniakes whose expedition aimed to recover Sicily from the Muslims, then against the Bulgarians, returning to Norway where he ruled until 1066. He joined forces with Tostig Godwinson and died with him at the battle of Stamford Bridge.4 The Varangians later fought against the

Normans, as part of Emperor Alexios’s army at the siege of Dyrrachion in 1081.5 Byzantine sources use different terms for mercenaries from north of the Alps: ‘Frank’, ‘Italian’, ‘Celt’ or ‘Latin’, tending not to describe Normans as Normans.6 Michael Attaleiates, one of the principal sources, referred to Normans as ‘Latins’, a term which, it has been suggested, was intended to suggest that they were part of the imperial world.7 The careers of three men in particular are relevant to the story of the Normans in the south and later to the ambitions of Robert Guiscard and Bohemond to acquire Byzantine territory and even, in the case of the former, the throne itself. Hervé Frankopoulos, ‘son of the Frank’, Roussel de Bailleul, and Robert Crispin, were employed in Byzantine armies in different campaigns, and had to negotiate power struggles over the throne during a period of extreme political instability. Two were successful in securing grants of land.8 Hervé Frankopoulos fought with the Byzantine general George Maniakes between 1038 and 1040 when Maniakes was

trying

to

reconquer

Sicily

from

the

Muslims.

Maniakes’s army included some three hundred Normans, and it is likely that Hervé was one of them.9 Subsequently Hervé fought in Apulia against the Greeks. By 1049 he was in command of the left wing of an imperial army under Nikephoras Phokas against the Pechenegs on the Danube frontier.10 He acquired land in Anatolia, where he gathered

a force of three hundred Normans.11 These he led to the east, to the neighbourhood of Lake Van, where he may have intended to set himself up in a landed principality. He initially defeated a Turkish force but was then defeated and captured.12 He returned in chains to Constantinople, where he was reconciled to the emperor. Under Emperor Isaac Comnenos (1057–59) he was elevated to the senior honorary rank of magistros, a title which appears on his seal.13 Later, however, he was executed under Emperor Constantine X Doukas (1074–78, 1081–87).14 The origins of Roussel de Bailleul are obscure. His first name may have been Ursellus in Latin, and there are several places called Bailleul in Normandy such as Bailleul in the Department of Orne and Bailleul-Angerville in SeineMaritime, as well as Bailleul in the Nord Department. Roussel de Bailleul is first mentioned as fighting for Count Roger of Sicily at the battle of Cerami in 1063.15 He then transferred to the Byzantine emperor’s service and by 1071 he was part of the army of Emperor Romanos. However, he did not take part in the great battle of Manzikert of 1071 when the emperor was captured by the Seljuk Turks, a battle which marked a turning point for the Byzantines in Turkey.16 Roussel then decided to rebel, was captured, freed, and marched on Constantinople.17 He gathered an army,

was

captured

again

fighting

the

Turks,

and

ransomed.18 Like Hervé he established himself on a land which could have formed the nucleus of a principality. He

was captured, handed over to Alexios Comnenos, and released once again.19 He commanded a force against a rebel, Nikephoros Botaniates, defeated then joined him, and was finally captured and executed.20 The careers of Hervé and Roussel had certain parallels. Both had been fighting with the Normans in Italy before transferring to imperial service. Both men were able to acquire land, and both ended on the scaffold. There

were

opportunities

for

soldiers

of

fortune

elsewhere. In Iberia Christian princes were pushing back against the Muslims who had ruled most of the peninsula since the eighth century. From about the mid-eleventh century there were more arrivals from across the Pyrenees, especially from France. Growing numbers of pilgrims travelled to the shrine of St James at Compostela, there were growing contacts with monastic communities, most of all the Burgundian abbey of Cluny, and there were warriors, persuaded either by motives of piety or the prospect of gain.21 One was Ebles, Lord of Roucy in the Department of Aisne, one of the lords of the region round Paris who was to cause King Louis VI a great deal of trouble.22 He agreed to go to Spain in 1073, promising the pope to hold any land he gained as a fief of the papacy, though the plan came to nothing.23 Ebles was also a son-inlaw of Robert Guiscard. More soldiers were to travel to Spain after the First Crusade, notably Rotrou II Count of Perche and Robert Bordet, whose careers were described

by Orderic Vitalis.24 Rotrou, whose lands lay to the southeast of Normandy, succeeded his father whilst on the Crusade, and in 1103 married a daughter of Henry I. He answered the call of King Alfonso of Aragon for help with the promise of great reward, but this was not forthcoming on either of his two expeditions. Robert Bordet’s family came from Rabodanges (Cullei) in the Department of Orne, where the land was held by the Grandmesnil family. He was in Spain in the 1120s where he seized and held the city of Tarragona,

calling

himself

Prince

of

Tarragona.25

Meanwhile a Robert Bordet, possibly the grandfather of the Spanish Robert Bordet, had gone to England. His widow held land in 1086 as an under-tenant.26 The Bordets thus provide another example of a family whose sons travelled to different regions to make their fortunes. Robert Crispin, remembered as a commander at the siege of Barbastro in 1064, is an early example of a Norman in Spain.27 Like Manzikert the significance of this battle has been much discussed, especially the role of Pope Alexander II, and whether the siege should be regarded as an early Crusade, or whether the Crusades proper should be regarded as starting in 1095.28 The Christians were led by Thomas de Chalon, brother of the abbot of Cluny. The papal contingent was led by the Norman William of Montreuil (see below, p. 60); the Aquitanians were led by their duke, and the Catalans and Aragonese were led by

their king. The Christian force succeeded in capturing the city, but within a year it had been reconquered. After the siege Robert transferred to the emperor’s service but in 1059, aggrieved that he had not been sufficiently rewarded for his service, he began robbing imperial tax collectors. The Emperor Romanos IV marched against him and after initially accepting his professions of loyalty ‘because of the man’s courage, reputation for martial deeds and ability to command’, dismissed him. After the Byzantine defeat at Manzikert, Robert was in the service of Andronikos Doukas commanding a division of the army, but seems to have died not long afterwards. Like Hervé and Roussel de Bailleul, Robert Crispin thus moved from one theatre of war to another, the army of the Byzantine empire. These

three

were

particularly

important

figures

mentioned in Byzantine sources. In a Norman source, the chronicle of Sainte-Barbe-en-Auge, the experiences in Byzantium of another family were recalled.29 Odo I Stigand had

gone

with

Duke

Robert

I

as

a

pilgrim

to

Constantinople, and stayed to serve in the imperial palace, becoming

fluent

in

Greek

and

other

languages.

Subsequently he became a steward in the household of William the Conqueror, took the title of Lord of Mézidon, and was the founder of a collegiate church at SainteBarbe.30 He had three sons, Odo, Robert and Maurice. Odo and Robert travelled to Constantinople where they served

the emperor. Robert was given relics of St Barbara which, when he returned to Normandy, were believed to have cured his brother Maurice, who was gravely ill at the time. The patronage of the church devolved on William de Tancarville, described as the nepos of the founder, and in 1128 the church was converted into an Augustinian priory.31 Eleventh-century Englishmen were also on the move. As in Normandy, some departed into exile, like Swein, the son of Earl Godwin, who was exiled in 1047, and took refuge with the count of Flanders. He returned to England, was exiled again, reinstated and exiled for the final time in 1051. It was claimed that he died returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.32 Hereward, who was to be celebrated for his resistance to William the Conqueror, had been in exile shortly before 1066 and had travelled, via Cornwall, Ireland and the Orkneys, to Flanders.33 After 1066

many

Englishmen

went

into

exile,

some

to

Constantinople, as noted above (p. 52), others to Scotland with Edgar Ætheling or to Ireland with the sons of Harold. Others are said to have gone to Scandinavia and returned with a Scandinavian army to join a revolt against the Normans.34 Because Godric, the hermit of Finchale in county Durham, came to be venerated as a saint, details of his earlier life were recorded.35 Though not a Norman, his experience illustrates how it was possible to move between

worlds and even occupations. He was born in Norfolk after 1066 to a poor English couple. He became a pedlar, travelled to St Andrews in Scotland and to Rome, and became a trader moving between Scotland, Denmark and Flanders, prospering so well that he became a ship’s captain. He may even have been the Godric ‘a pirate from England’ who helped King Baldwin of Jerusalem in 1102.36 After further shrine-visiting, Godric reached Durham, and settled finally as a hermit at Finchale a few miles outside the city. Normans entered the service of British queens and kings before 1066 and doubtless a few accompanied Queen Emma to England in 1002.37 The twelfth-century chronicler Orderic Vitalis certainly thought so, suggesting that the Normans who accompanied Matilda, daughter of Henry I, to Germany in 1109 were hoping to rise through ‘their audacity or ruthlessness’, like those who had risen in England through Emma.38 Others entered the service of Emma’s son, Edward the Confessor, who spent many years at the Norman court before returning to England in 1041.39 Those who were expelled when the Godwins were restored in 1052 went north, to serve King Macbeth (Mac Bethad mac Findláich) in Scotland.40 There was thus variety in the motives and numbers of those involved. Difficulties at home may have prompted some to take to the road. Many served for pay, some for one or more campaigns and then were paid off, like many of

those who had followed William the Conqueror to England in 1066. Some were mercenaries in that they were prepared to fight for whoever paid them, whilst others were retained by a single paymaster.41 On occasion there were opportunities to acquire land, as Hervé and Roussel de Bailleul did in Turkey. Stories about their exploits would have been known to Robert Guiscard and Bohemond, who each took Byzantine territory for themselves. Campaign-length contracts may have suited many, giving them the wealth they needed to establish themselves back home, but how many were able to translate service into the granting of land, if that was what they wanted? Many knights were paid off soon after the battle of Hastings at Pevensey,42 but others were not paid until 1068. Orderic wrote of William’s wish at that time to keep his knights because of the conflicts in England, promising them lands, revenues, and great power once his enemies had been crushed. His ‘barons and stalwart fighting men’ wanted to stay, but returned to Normandy to their ‘lascivious wives’, and William paid off his mercenaries.43 How many landless Normans were granted English land is simply not clear. Distinguishing the numbers of Norman emigrants from the wider group of those simply called ‘Franks’ is not easy. Conventional

wisdom

stresses

the

small

numbers

of

Normans who went to Italy, and it is clear that they soon co-opted Lombards and Muslims into their followings.

There are references to hundreds of Franks in Byzantium; Roussel de Bailleul, for instance, was said to have been in command of about four hundred Franks at the time of his revolt in 1074.44 The force that accompanied William the Conqueror to England was recruited from Normandy with contingents from elsewhere, chiefly from Flanders and Brittany. Its size is reckoned to have been in the thousands, and even if many did go home around 1068, those who remained were sufficiently numerous to make a profound impression on English society.45 The direction and the distance travelled by emigrants reflected prior knowledge and contacts. Chris Wickham pointed out that in earlier centuries opportunities may have been closer at hand: as principalities stabilized in the later tenth century young men simply had to travel further than before to look for opportunities.46 Growing papal concern over the wars against Muslims in Spain and the rising numbers of pilgrims to the shrine dedicated to St James at Compostela were ways in which information about the wars in Iberia percolated back into France.47 The distinction between pilgrims and soldiers of fortune in this era was far from permanent: early Norman arrivals at Salerno were said to have been pilgrims returning from Jerusalem who, finding the city under siege, took up arms.48

Pilgrims

were

not

going

to

travel

without

protection and some, evidently, were capable of using weapons. According to Orderic, the sons of Tancred of

Hauteville made their way to Italy at different times disguised

as

pilgrims.49

Pilgrimages

brought

new

experiences, local knowledge and contacts, and pilgrims might be warriors just as warriors could become pilgrims. Thus, it is less surprising than might be thought to find Normans in the south either in the closing years of the tenth century or, according to a different school of thought, a few years later (see below, pp. 68–9). What they found was a land of opportunity for soldiers of fortune. Pilgrimage was on the rise in the later tenth century, related to fears around the year 1000 about the second coming of Christ and the Last Judgement.50 Most recorded pilgrims seem to have visited shrines in their own region. Thus Normans went to the shrine of St Wandrille at the abbey of Saint Wandrille, or that of St Michael at MontSaint-Michel.51 Those who ventured to Italy visited Rome or the shrine of St Michael on Monte Gargano. Some might venture as far as Jerusalem, though this was dangerous in the early eleventh century because of the hostility of the Fatimid ruler who held sway over Jerusalem and the holy places.52 Amongst the high-status pilgrims of the early eleventh century was Duke Robert I of Normandy.53 Thus in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries many young men from different countries left home, sometimes on pilgrimage, sometimes as exiles, but available for hire as soldiers. There was nothing unusual about young Normans leaving the duchy, and their direction of travel was

conditioned by perceived opportunities. In the remainder of this chapter we explore the histories of four Norman families, the Grandmesnils, their kinsmen the Giroie, the Crispins, and the Tosnys. Three of these, the Giroie, Grandmesnils, and Crispins prompted chroniclers to write their histories and as they are relatively well documented we can see something of the factors which made some sons get involved in Norman conquests. Giroies and Grandmesnils The best documented of the Norman families that went to Italy, apart from the Hautevilles, were the related families of Grandmesnil and the Giroie. They were the founding patrons of the abbey of Saint-Evroul and thus of special interest to the abbey’s great historian, Orderic Vitalis. They were families of higher status than the Hautevilles, but the location of their estates in the southern marches of the duchy brought them into conflict with their neighbours and, from time to time, with the duke.54 According to Orderic, Giroie was a grandson of Abbo the Breton, and was a member of the ‘greatest nobility of France and Brittany’ in the time when Hugh and Robert were kings of France, that is, between 987 and 1031. Giroie’s sister was the mother of three sons and eleven daughters who in turn produced many sons who fought in France, England, and Apulia.55 He himself had seven sons and four daughters, one of whom married Robert de

Grandmesnil, and they in turn had three sons, Hugh, Robert, and Arnold de Grandmesnil.56 Of the sons, Hugh de Grandmesnil was exiled in 1061, and after he was restored to favour he was posted to the border

castle

of

Neufmarché-en-Lyons.57

He

was

sufficiently back in favour to be present at Hastings, and was subsequently put in charge of ‘the region around Winchester’, possibly as sheriff.58 By 1086 he had acquired substantial estates in England, and seems to have made his residence at Ware in Hertfordshire.59 He died in 1094 leaving his estates in Normandy to Robert and those in England to Ivo who, with his brother Aubrey, joined Duke Robert of Normandy’s contingent on the First Crusade.60 Meanwhile,

Hugh’s

youngest

brother

Arnold

had

evidently gone to Italy, whilst the third brother Robert II de Grandmesnil was first a knight, then became a monk and abbot of Saint-Evroul.61 Robert fell foul of Duke William. He was accused by the prior of Saint-Evroul of making jokes against the duke and, knowing the duke was ‘raging against him and all his kindred’, he too left for Italy in 1061 to lay his case before the pope.62 The pope gave Robert his support in the latter’s dispute with the duke, so Robert returned to Normandy to reclaim the abbacy and oust the duke’s candidate. In a rage William said he would hang any monk who dared to bring a lawsuit against him, so once again Robert departed into exile. He crossed the Alps into Italy and met up with his cousin, William of Montreuil.63

Robert Guiscard placed Robert de Grandmesnil in charge of the monasteries of Sant’Eufemia, SS. Trinità, Venosa, and SS. Trinità, Mileto.64 Also present on the Hastings campaign was Hugh de Grandmesnil’s brother-in-law Humphrey de Tilleul, who was put in charge of the castle built at Hastings.65 Humphrey came from Tilleul-en-Auge near Saint-Pierre-surDives and had crossed to England in the time of King Edward, according to Orderic.66 He, together with Hugh de Grandmesnil, was mentioned by Orderic as one of the Normans who returned to the duchy in 1068.67 He did not acquire English estates. One son, Arnold, was a member of the household of Earl Hugh of Chester, and then became a monk at Saint-Evroul. In the service of the abbey he often crossed to England and also to southern Italy and Sicily to ask for support from his kinsmen.68 Another son, Robert, had a spectacular career fighting the Welsh. According to Orderic, this Robert, usually known as Robert of Rhuddlan, went to England with his father. He was a squire in the service of Edward the Confessor, who knighted him, and therefore was in England before 1066.69 He joined forces with his cousin, Hugh d’Avranches Earl of Chester, and was made princeps of his forces and

gubernator of the province (possibly, therefore, sheriff). By the king’s command a castle was built at Rhuddlan which he commanded. In Domesday Book the castle and the lands were held by Earl Hugh70 who also held lands in the Wirral

in Cheshire of the earl, but the lands of ‘Nort Wales’ were held by the king, except for land which had been earmarked for a bishopric.71 In 1093 he was killed attacking the Welsh at the Great Orme near Llandudno. He was buried first at Chester, but later his brother Arnold took his bones for burial at Saint-Evroul.72

Orderic

composed a Latin epitaph celebrating his courage and his deeds of prowess against the Welsh, at whose hands he died (see below, pp. 99–100). The complicated story of these two interrelated families, well known to Orderic Vitalis, illustrates many points about lived experiences. They were of more than modest status – the fact that they had the resources to endow an abbey illustrates that – but there were numerous children to provide for. Several sons from different branches went to Apulia and absenting themselves from the wrath of William the Conqueror was clearly an important factor. Hugh de Grandmesnil was involved in the conquest of England, and two of his sons went on the First Crusade. Family ties counted: William Giroie, who had been blinded by an enemy, travelled to Apulia and met up with his kinsmen there.73 His son William of Montreuil had prospered. Having repudiated Richard of Capua’s daughter, he joined the papal army and, as noted above (p. 54), led a contingent at the siege of Barbastro.74 Although William of Montreuil never seems to have returned to Normandy, Orderic wrote that he did not forget Saint-Evroul, and sent

treasure back. The first person to whom the treasure was entrusted was robbed in Rome and died there. The second courier was William’s father, William Giroie, who died on the return trip, handing over the treasure to a knight who then refused to deliver it to the monks.75 Orderic’s account thus

supplies

fascinating

details

of

the

continuing

attachment of this family to the abbey they had helped to establish. Crispins Miles Crispin was precentor of the Norman abbey of BecHellouin, an important centre of historical writing, between 1120 and 1150.76 Miles’s kinsman Gilbert Crispin, Abbot of Westminster, wrote a life of the first abbot, Herluin.77 Miles himself wrote a life of Archbishop Lanfranc, and an account of the appearance of the Virgin Mary to William Crispin, including a history of the Crispin family.78 The sobriquet ‘crispin’ alluded to the curly hair that was a family trait. Robert Crispin, whom we met earlier fighting at Barbastro in Spain and then for the Byzantine emperor, was a son of Gilbert I, who was described as being of noble birth, and whose wife was Gunnor, a descendant of Duchess Gunnor.79 Robert’s brothers, Gilbert II, and William I Crispin, both served William the Conqueror and held border castles. Gilbert had been installed at Tillières-sur-Avre, a castle built by Duke Richard II on the French side of the river Avre80 but this was seized by King Henry I of France.81 William was given charge of the castle of Neaufles on the

Norman Vexin frontier with France, and was appointed

vicomte. He was attacked by the French and it was then that he had his vision of the Virgin, who covered him with a white garment to make him invisible to his enemies. This then was a family of high status, related to the ducal house. Gilbert II was said by Wace writing long after the event to have been at Hastings, but not William I.82 In the next generation Gilbert Crispin became a monk of Bec, and in 1085

abbot

of

Westminster.

Miles

Crispin,

Lord

of

Wallingford, was almost certainly Gilbert’s brother.83 Miles acquired his English estates through marriage to an English heiress, probably soon after 1079.84 Possibly the Hastings campaign took place when Gilbert and William were unable to participate, or perhaps their border commands at Tillières and Neaufles necessitated their remaining at their posts in Normandy, but neither acquired land in England. Tosnys This was one of the most distinguished and powerful families

in

Normandy

around

the

turn

of

the

first

millennium.85 There are two traditions about its origins. One, reported by Orderic Vitalis, was that the family descended from an uncle of Rollo named Malahulc, with whom he had fought against the Franks: in other words, Malahulc was one of the original Normans. This was perhaps the version passed down in the family.86 The other, recorded

in

the

mid-eleventh

century

Acts

of

the

Archbishops of Rouen, was that they were descended from Hugh de Calvacamp, the father of Hugh Archbishop of Rouen (who died in around 989) and his brother or brotherin-law Ralph I, who was installed at Tosny.87 Ralph de Tosny was first mentioned as one of those to whom the castle of Tillières-sur-Avre was committed in about 1013 or 1014. Whether this was Ralph I or a son of the same name is unclear. It is also possible that he was the man named Rodulf who fell foul of Richard II and made his way to Italy where he fought against the Byzantines.88 This Ralph had several sons, including Roger, who succeeded him.89 Roger spent some years in Spain fighting the Saracens, and on his return around 1035 founded the abbey of Conches. This was dedicated to Sainte Foy of Conques, who had cured his wife, Godeholde,90 and lies on the route to the shrine of St James of Compostela. Roger was said to have refused to serve Duke William, destroyed the lands of his neighbours, and in 1040 he and two of his sons were killed.91 Roger had other sons, including Ralph, who succeeded to the main Tosny estates, Vuaso,92 and Robert of Stafford.93 His daughter Adeliza married William FitzOsbern, Duke William’s right-hand man.94 Ralph was an important figure under Duke William. He was present at the battle of Mortemer, exiled for a time in 1061, but was evidently restored to favour and fought at Hastings.95 On that occasion Ralph was said to have refused to carry the Normans’ standard because he wanted to join in the

thick of the fighting.96 He was granted the great estate of Necton in Norfolk, and lands in Essex and Hertfordshire centred on Flamstead, a manor which belonged to St Albans Abbey.97 Both of these are likely to have been acquired not long after 1066, but he acquired additional estates after the fall of his nephew, Earl Roger, including the border lordship of Clifford in Herefordshire.98 His daughter Godehilde married Baldwin de Bourcq and went with him on the First Crusade, dying at Antioch.99 Meanwhile Ralph’s brother Robert of Stafford gained land in

the

west

midlands

and

became

sheriff

of

Staffordshire.100 Robert de Todeni of Belvoir and Berengar his son also gained land in England, the former chiefly in Lincolnshire, and the latter in Yorkshire.101 This then was another family of high status, whose members are found in Italy, Spain and England and participating in the First Crusade. These case studies illustrate the experiences of some who went from Normandy to Italy, England, or went into the service of the Byzantine emperor, some of whom went back to Normandy, while others gained wealth and lands abroad. They are inevitably drawn from families who were better-documented, and hence wealthier, but that in itself is significant. Not all ‘swords for hire’ were from lesser families, nor were they landless: some provision could have been made for younger sons. The link with banishment is also significant. By the reign of Richard II those who fell

foul of the duke found it necessary to leave Normandy, at least for a time. One aspect of Norman emigration which needs more study is its regional distribution, as well as the social status of emigrants. The subject is complicated by fluid naming practices: individuals could be named ‘son of’ after their fathers, or sometimes after their mothers. They might have nicknames, like the Crispins, or they might be named after their place of origin, like the Hautevilles. Those who witnessed charters might simply refer to themselves as ‘Norman’, or ‘Breton’. Those who had place-names were not necessarily lords of the place. Examples from Norman Britain include Roger d’Ivry and Robert de Brus (Brix), both Ivry and Brix being ducal castles.102 The persistence of identifiable Norman names in Italy, the British Isles, and Antioch has to be handled with caution. Witnesses to charters are an invaluable source for all three theatres, and for England there is also the evidence

of

Domesday

Book.

Léon-Robert

Ménager

compiled an inventory of the Normans in the south in the eleventh and twelfth centuries on the basis of charters and chronicles.103 His raw data provides a rough guide to regional distribution by French department: twenty-seven came from the Manche as opposed to twenty-four from Calvados, sixteen from Eure, the same number from SeineMaritime, and fourteen from Orne.104 The numbers from the west, the Manche, are not surprising, in that (we might

guess) they included neighbours and kinsmen of the Hautevilles and other west Norman lords. How far were such recruitment patterns paralleled in other theatres? As in Italy, attempting to identify the regional origins of those who settled in England is also complicated by different naming practices, but Domesday Book provides an invaluable snapshot of the situation as it was in 1086.105 In her prosopographical study, Domesday

People, Katharine Keats-Rohan calculated that of the 313 individuals or institutions with identifiable Norman origins, 32 per cent (100) came from Calvados, 19.9 per cent (61) came from Eure, 9.56 per cent (31) came from Manche, 9.26 per cent (29) from Orne, and 29.4 per cent (92) from Seine-Maritime.106 The importance of landholders from Seine-Maritime, as she pointed out, reflects the strength of Duke William’s support in that region and, of course, it was closer to Rouen.107 If one can draw any conclusions from these statistics, it is that from Seine-Maritime rather more went to England than to Italy where, proportionately, there were more from western Normandy. When we come to the First Crusade and the principality of Antioch, the numbers of Normans involved were fewer, and

charter

witnesses

did

not

use

the

description

Normannus as they did in south Italy. Robert Curthose recruited chiefly from the duchy. Few came from the England of William Rufus, and they either died or returned to western Europe. Bohemond’s contingent was recruited

from the Normans in the south, headed by a number of those who had acquired lands and titles there.108 The first four rulers of Antioch were Norman by at least one remove, that is, they came from south Italy.109 Apart from the rulers, however, the evidence is scanty and beset by similar problems as those in Italy and England. There are extremely few families of identifiable Norman origins, not least because of a lack of continuous landholding over a lengthy period. Perhaps the only one is Robert de Sourdeval, thought to have come from Sourdeval-la-Barre in the Department of Manche. He was part of Count Roger’s force which besieged Catania in 1081,110 and left Italy with Bohemond on the Crusade.111 In 1098 he witnessed a charter of Bohemond for the Genoese, and survived until 1115 when he was killed at the battle of Tell Danith.112 At that battle a certain Thierry de Barneville was present, perhaps a relative of Roger de Barneville, who was killed at Antioch in 1098.113 If so, at least one member of the Barneville family had stayed in the Near East after the First Crusade. The lack of evidence about Thierry’s ancestry, and about the precise identification of Barneville, are examples of some of the difficulties in tracing widely scattered

families,

and

also

the

danger

of

making

assumptions. The Sourdevals are a case in point. Robert de Sourdeval was definitely active in Sicily, on Crusade and in the principality of Antioch. However, what relation was he

to Richard de Sourdeval, who by 1086 had acquired land in Yorkshire, initially held of the count of Mortain?114 Was either branch of the family related to the lords of the onomatopoeic Swordlestown in County Kildare in Ireland, as has been suggested?115 Moreover, if they were related, did that relationship count for much? In other words, there is a temptation to link different individuals with the same place-names in different regions of Europe with each other and with a place of origin in Normandy, and to conclude that we are looking at a medieval diaspora. On the other hand, those Normans who did identify themselves by Norman place-names tended to keep them. This was a question

of

pride

in

ancestry

but

also,

perhaps,

a

continuing sense of attachment to Normandy. In this chapter we have seen how eleventh-century Europe was swarming with armed men who fought for whoever would pay them or offer the prospect of wealth, especially land. In Italy the number of Normans was initially small and never became large. In 1066 when Duke William raised his banner, William of Poitiers wrote of the knights who came from all areas, attracted by the duke’s known generosity and the justice of his cause.116 The call to the Crusade was different. Here the pull of piety and honour must have been stronger. Those who went had to provide resources, rather than serve for pay, but as we shall see in Chapter Six some at least reaped temporal rewards.

Some sons thus married well and inherited land, some entered the church, whilst others left Normandy to seek their fortunes. There were many swords for hire in the tenth and eleventh century, and it is hardly surprising that emigrants would go where there were better prospects, or where they could call on the ties of kinship.

CHAPTER FOUR

NORMANS IN THE SOUTH pilgrims, T visiting ecclesiastics and merchants,returning supplied Normans HE REPORTS OF TRAVELLERS, ESPECIALLY

with information about Italy. Rome was an obvious draw for pilgrims, as was the shrine of St Michael on the Gargano peninsula which had special resonance for Normans, who venerated the saint also at Mont-Saint-Michel.1 Other pilgrims travelled through Italy, taking ship from ports at Amalfi and Bari to go to Jerusalem. Monks travelled north over the Alps seeking different forms of religious life. William of Volpiano became a monk first at Vercelli and then took service at Cluny in Burgundy. He was called by Duke Richard II to bring reform to Norman monasteries, at Fécamp, Mont-Saint-Michel and Bernay, and was appointed abbot of Jumièges.2 A little later Lanfranc of Pavia crossed the Alps and joined the fledgling community at BecHellouin, becoming abbot of St Stephen’s Caen and then archbishop of Canterbury.3 There are many surviving narratives composed from different perspectives. Three in particular represent what might be called the insider’s perspective: the History of the

Normans by Amatus of Montecassino and the chronicle of the abbey itself, the Deeds of Count Roger by Geoffrey of Malaterra, and William of Apulia’s Deeds of Robert

Guiscard (see above, pp. 17–19).4 There are other Italian chronicles and annals, such as the annals of Bari, the

chronicle of San Clemente Casauria, and the chronicle of Arnulf Archbishop of Milan.5 There are papal lives and letters, and charters issued by the Normans in favour of religious houses.6 Of the Byzantine sources the most useful are those by Michael Psellus, Michael Attaleiates, John Skylitzes and Anna Comnena’s biography of her father, Alexios

Comnenos.7

From

northern

Europe

German

chronicles throw light on the western emperor’s Italian interventions.8 Rodulfus Glaber and Adhémar of Chabannes discuss the arrival of the Normans in Italy.9 Of the historians writing in Normandy, Orderic Vitalis showed most awareness of the links between Normans in Italy, Normandy, and England.10 Letters in the Geniza archive in Cairo throw light on different Jewish communities as does the twelfth-century account of Benjamin of Tudela.11 So the historian is not short of source material. The challenge comes rather from making a coherent account from a complex and shifting dynamic and situating the Normans in the wider context of Italian and Mediterranean history. The rise of the Normans from being landless mercenaries to the most powerful rulers in the south is discussed in the first part of this chapter, then the reasons for their success. Northern

Italy

had

been

incorporated

into

the

Carolingian empire as the kingdom of Italy, but during the tenth century a good deal of power had passed to the marquisses, to cities and bishops. South of Rome around the year 1000 Italy was mixed ethnically and religiously

and politically divided.12 The main ethnic groups were Lombards, Greeks and Franks (in the duchy of Spoleto), and, in Sicily, settlers from north Africa. In religious terms there were Greek Christians especially in the Capitanata and the Val Demone in north-east Sicily. Latin Christians were

centred

notably

on

the

great

monasteries

of

Montecassino and San Vincenzo al Volturno, both of which were looted by Arabs in the ninth century. As the monks reconstructed their territories in the tenth and eleventh centuries they defended settlements in the form of fortified villages, in the process known as incastellamento. There were

Muslims

especially

in

Sicily,

which

had

been

conquered in the ninth century from the Byzantines; Jewish communities existed in cities such as Palermo, Bari, Salerno, Amalfi, Capua, Naples, Benevento, and Melfi. From a political perspective both emperors, west and east, claimed

authority

over

Italy,

though

in

both

cases

maintaining other far-flung interests made consistent attention to Italy impossible.13 Moreover their interests overlapped and sometimes conflicted with those of the papacy, which had an immediate interest in southern Italy. In the later tenth and early eleventh centuries there was a vigorous Byzantine emperor, Basil II ‘the Bulgar Slayer’ (975–1025), who waged campaigns against the Fatimids in Syria, against the Khazars and Georgians and, most famously, against the Bulgars as well as dealing with revolts in Anatolia.14 Byzantine Italy, the administrative

regions of Langobardia (Apulia and Sicily) and Calabria, were administered by officials called catepans, of whom the senior was based in Bari.15 The catepans were appointed by Constantinople, whilst lesser officials were local men. In the late tenth century Byzantine power was extended north of the Gargano peninsula into the region called Capitanata, today the Province of Foggia. The

duchy

Lombards;

it

of

Spoleto

was

had

notionally

been

subject

created

by

to

western

the

the

emperor, but in practice independent. The Lombard duchy of

Benevento

had

divided

into

three

principalities,

Benevento, Capua, and Salerno, which were in practice autonomous, as were the cities of Amalfi, Naples, and Gaeta. Amalfi was the most important trading city on the west coast engaged not only in local and regional trade but also in long distance dealings with the Arab world and with Byzantium.16 Finally, there were economic contrasts. Much of the south was mountainous and sparsely populated, but there were also fertile corn-growing areas such as the Tavoliere region of Apulia.17 Sicily gave the island’s new rulers access to grain supplies, which could be exported to north Africa in return for gold. Local and princely rivalries overlapped with revolts against Byzantine rule to provide manifold opportunities for soldiers of fortune.18 Arrival We cannot be certain precisely when and in what context Normans first arrived in Italy. The chroniclers’ different

versions are themselves indicative that the event was not seen as being of dramatic significance.19 The version of Amatus of Montecassino, stated that forty Norman pilgrims returning from Jerusalem arrived at Salerno probably around the year 999.20 ‘Saracens’, the term which was often used in the west as a shorthand for Muslims, had come to punish the Salernitans for not paying tribute.21 The Normans asked for arms and horses from Prince Guaimar III of Salerno (999–1027), then fell upon the Saracens and drove them off. They refused recompense but encouraged their fellow countrymen to join them at Salerno, encouraging them with gifts of citrus fruit, almonds, preserved nuts, purple cloth and instruments of iron. The stress here is thus on the Norman pilgrims being

invited to intervene in Italy.22 Amatus then went on to describe the arrival in Italy in 1017 of a group of exiles, Gilbert Buatère and his four brothers, Rainulf, Asclettin, Osmund and Rodulf. Either at Capua or Monte Sant’Angelo, Gargano, accounts vary, they met Melus, a Lombard from Bari.23 Melus had rebelled against the Byzantines in Apulia and had seized Bari and Ascoli, but had been besieged by the Greek commander (catapan) Basil Boiannes, and fled to Salerno.24 The Normans agreed to serve him, and sent word to Normandy of the great prospects in Italy. ‘They persuaded many to go, some because they possessed little or no wealth, others because they wished to make the great fortune they had

greater still. All of them were greedy for gain.’25 Many took the road south, but despite their valiant efforts, they were almost all killed. A series of engagements with Byzantine forces under the catepan Basil Boiannes with a contingent of Varangians took place, including a battle at Cannae in 1018. Only six of the Norman leaders survived, of whom two took refuge with the Abbot Atenulf of Montecassino who stationed them at Pignataro Interamna to protect the abbey’s land. Others went to Guaimar III at Salerno. Melus and his brother-in-law Dattus fled, Melus to the court of the Emperor Henry II, where he died. Dattus, who had taken refuge in the Garigliano tower near Gaeta, was captured by the Byzantines, taken to Bari, where he was killed by being thrown into the sea in a sack.26 There are then two traditions, both of which may have been true, one suggesting that a group of returning pilgrims at Salerno fought the Saracens, the other that Norman exiles enrolled in a rebel force fighting against the Byzantines. As Loud has pointed out, the Normans in action with Melus in 1017 are unlikely to have been the first to have arrived in Italy.27 A variant of the Norman exiles’ version was that one of them, Rodulf (identified as Ralph of Tosny, by Leo Marsicanus, see above, p. 50), was persuaded by Pope Benedict VIII (1012–24), concerned about the power of the Byzantines in the south, to help the Lombards against the Byzantines.28 Rodulf was sent to Benevento, the centre of a semi-independent duchy, and began attacking

Greek tax collectors. The Normans were victorious in three engagements, but in the second and third they had heavy losses. Rodulf thereupon went to Emperor Henry II, who in 1022 had arrived in Italy at the head of an army. One detachment led by Archbishop Pilgrim of Cologne went to Capua and arrested both Pandulf IV Prince of Capua and his brother Abbot Atenulf, who was drowned whilst escaping. A second detachment travelled down the Adriatic coast and the third, led by the emperor himself, attacked Troia in Puglia. Here he was joined by Rodulf, but the besieged held out and Henry left Italy. He died childless in 1024 and was succeeded by Conrad II, the first of the Salian emperors. Soon after his coronation Conrad released Pandulf of Capua. In 1026 he travelled to Italy to deal with the unrest which had developed since his predecessor’s death. He besieged Pavia, was crowned king of the Lombards in Milan and then emperor in Rome in 1027. He proceeded south to take homage from the princes of Capua and Salerno and the duke of Benevento. But he still had to deal with Pandulf, who had besieged Capua. He entered the city in 1026, and took Naples in 1028 after which Pandulf offered terms to the emperor. Conrad besieged and took Capua, and gave it and the title of Prince to Guaimar of Salerno. Between 1017 and 1030 the Normans were ready and available to serve for pay whoever needed them, whether it was Melus of Bari, the pope, the Emperor Henry II, Guaimar of

Salerno,29 Pandulf of Capua or Sergius IV, Prince of Naples.30 Indeed, the rivalry between the leading Lombard princes

provided

important

change

ready

opportunities.

occurred

in

1030.

However, The

an

Normans

established their first foothold when one of the Normans’ leaders, Rainulf, married the sister of Sergius IV of Naples, and was installed by him at Aversa, not far from Naples.31 They now had a base from which to operate. ‘Avid for Domination’32 Until the late 1030s Byzantine rule in Apulia and Calabria was holding up fairly well, despite resistance to taxation. In 1038 the Byzantine general George Maniakes planned an invasion of Muslim-held Sicily. To do so he removed many forces from mainland Italy, including Normans, sent by Guaimar of Salerno. They included the recently arrived William de Hauteville and his brother Drogo, and were led by Arduin, a Lombard originally from Milan who spoke excellent Greek.33 The invasion was initially successful: Messina was captured and then Syracuse. William de Hauteville, killed the caid or Muslim governor of Syracuse in single combat, and as a result gained the nickname ‘Iron Arm’.34 However, the expedition petered out. Maniakes was recalled to Constantinople, the gains were lost, and Arduin and the Normans left Sicily.35 Over the next two years the Normans continued to fight for pay. In 1041 Arduin, who had quarrelled with Maniakes in Sicily, was reconciled with him. He was made the

Byzantine commander at Melfi, but he and the Normans proceeded to seize the town on their own account.36 The Normans made Atenulf, brother of the prince of Benevento, their leader, but broke with him in a quarrel over payment of ransoms.37 They then turned to Argyrus, son of their former commander Melus of Bari, under whose leadership they captured Trani, but then fell out with him over the terms of surrender.38 On both occasions there were disputes about the spoils of war, and so in 1042 there was a change of tack. The Normans decided to choose William ‘Iron Arm’ as their leader and approached Guaimar of Salerno, who arranged a marriage between his niece and William. They then returned to Melfi where William was welcomed as lord. The Normans obeyed him ‘coment servicial’ that is, offered him their service, and their leaders ‘carried the meat and were butlers’. In Amatus’s version they further asked Guaimar to recognize Rainulf as Count of Aversa, and allotted to him the as yet unconquered territories of Siponto and Monte Gargano, although the Byzantine emperor had already granted them to him in 1036. Then they divided amongst themselves land they had acquired and were yet to acquire, while Melfi ‘was made common to all’. Guaimar invested each of the lords before returning to Salerno.39 Amatus wanted to suggest that Guaimar as prince was still superior to William as count, and William’s superiority over the other Normans is implied by their performance of personal

service at table.40 The Normans as a group shared out the spoils, but once again Guaimar was said to have invested them, and consequently William’s overall superiority is not clearly stated. Other Norman leaders, like Rainulf of Aversa, had made their gains independently. Amatus was writing with the benefit of hindsight, glossing over the awkward fact that the Hauteville family had originally only been one amongst several Norman competitors for power. In the short term the Normans made only limited territorial gains. Argyrus and a new Byzantine commander, or catepan, still held Bari and the other more important cities.

Moreover,

there

were

divisions

amongst

the

Normans, between the Hautevilles and other Normans, and amongst the Hautevilles themselves. Rainulf, Count of Aversa, died in 1045, being succeeded first by his nephew Asclettin and then Asclettin’s younger brother Richard.41 Richard, recently arrived in Italy with forty knights, initially joined forces with Humphrey de Hauteville, then took over Genzano. William ‘Iron Arm’ had died in 1045 or 1046, to be succeeded by his brother Drogo, who proceeded to capture Richard.42 Meanwhile, the Emperor Henry III arrived in Italy.43 His primary purpose was to resolve the situation at Rome, but in the early weeks of 1047 he deprived Guaimar of the title of Prince of Capua, reinstated Pandulf IV, and invested Rainulf II of Aversa and Drogo with the lands they held.44 This investiture strengthened the

position of the Normans by giving them greater legitimacy, even if it did not augment their power on the ground. Other Hauteville brothers arrived in the south, including the eldest son of their father’s second marriage, Robert Guiscard. Drogo proved less than welcoming.45 He sent Robert off to hold Scribla in the Val di Crati, northern Calabria, as a base from which to plunder the region. Having moved to a higher site away from the malarial marshes of the river valley, Robert plundered local communities and took prisoners for ransom.46 His fortunes improved when he married Alberada, aunt of Gerard of Buonalbergo, a lord in the service of the prince of Benevento, who supplied him with a substantial force of two hundred knights with which to conquer Calabria.47 Meanwhile Asclettin’s son Richard had become guardian of the infant heir to Aversa and then, the child disappearing from the records, a count himself. By this time the depredations of the Normans were causing concern. In 1050 Pope Leo IX (1048–54) went on pilgrimage to the shrine of St Michael on Monte Gargano. He saw for himself local people suffering as the Normans were burning churches and killing civilians.48 In the following year the citizens of Benevento placed themselves under papal lordship, and Leo summoned both Drogo de Hauteville and Guaimar of Salerno to ask them to stop attacking Benevento and its lands.49 Drogo was murdered at the hands of his enemies, and was succeeded by yet

another brother, Humphrey.50 The Normans were now generally hated, as a letter to the pope from John, an Italian by birth who was abbot of Fécamp, made clear.51 Bonizo of Sutri wrote that the pope was answering a plea for help from the Beneventans, and that he was disturbed by

the

Normans’

attacks

on

church

lands

and

on

Christians.52 Excommunication had not worked, so Pope Leo decided to form a coalition against the Normans, including the Byzantines under Argyrus and the Emperor Henry III.53 Archbishop John of Salerno had a vision of St Matthew who predicted that the pope would be defeated, and that those who tried to drive out the Normans would fail, because the land had been given to them by God.54 In 1053 the two armies met near the city of Civitate where the pope had taken refuge. Amatus and William of Apulia, writing later, provide the most detailed accounts of the battle. According to the latter, the pope was said to rely too much on the untrustworthy men of the Marches, whilst the Germans, tall and handsome, literally looked down on the Normans and advised the pope not to listen to peace proposals. The Normans were heavily outnumbered as the pope’s army was swelled by contingents from the south and centre of Italy. Running short of food, the Normans tried negotiation. They offered to hold their lands of the pope, promising to pay tribute and showed a banner which they claimed showed that they had been invested with their

lands by the emperor, but negotiations failed, and the two armies drew up in battle formation.55 Those present included Humphrey de Hauteville, Robert Guiscard, Count Richard of Aversa, and Peter and Walter the sons of Amicus, who held land in northern Apulia.56 They drew up in three squadrons, led by Richard of Aversa, Humphrey de Hauteville and Robert Guiscard. Richard of Aversa led a cavalry charge, whilst the other two fought on the wings. According to Amatus and William of Apulia, the Germans were all killed and the Lombards fled. The Normans escorted the pope to Benevento from where he returned to Rome.57 According to Malaterra the Normans prostrated themselves before the pope seeking absolution and blessing, which the pope granted, together with title to the land they had already conquered in Calabria and Sicily and further conquests to come, as hereditary fiefs of the papacy.58 Pitched battles in the Middle Ages were relatively rare, and this was a decisive victory for the Normans. For military historians it is important in demonstrating the value of cavalry charges in breaking up the opposition formation.59 Richard was specifically said to have charged against the Lombards with an elite band of knights. Humphrey began by using archers, then fought at close quarters, whilst Robert rode to his support.60 The battle also marked a turning point in demonstrating that the Normans could not now simply be ousted by force. Legitimation

Pope Leo’s attention turned to the deteriorating relations with the eastern church, as differences in practice were increasingly a concern for the reforming papacy. In 1053 the patriarch closed the Latin churches in Constantinople and a legation headed by Cardinal Humbert travelled to the city where he laid a papal bull excommunicating the patriarch on the altar of Santa Sophia. The patriarch responded

with

counter-anathemas.61

Restoring

good

relations was to be a major preoccupation of successive popes, but in fact the anathemas were not revoked until 1965. The events of 1054 thus marked a rupture between the western and eastern churches. Meanwhile the Normans went from strength to strength in both Apulia and Calabria.62 Robert Guiscard and his brother Roger did not always see eye to eye and Robert was evidently not prepared to hand over the gains made in Calabria, preferring to insist on his own independent authority.63 In 1058 Count Richard of Aversa captured Capua.64 In the same year Robert Guiscard set aside his first wife, Alberada, on the grounds of consanguinity, and married Sichelgaita, sister of Gisulf II of Salerno, thus strengthening links with the princes of Salerno.65 At Rome there was a contested papal election. The Normans supported the reform candidate, Nicholas II, and in 1059 he held a council at Melfi. On that occasion both Robert Guiscard and Richard of Capua swore allegiance to him. Perhaps this was simply a reaffirmation of an earlier

oath in the aftermath of the battle of Civitate, but on this occasion Robert was said to have been created duke, superior to the other counts. According to William of Apulia, ‘Calabria and all Apulia was conceded to him, and rule over all the people of his native land in Italy’.66 Richard was recognized as Count of Aversa and Prince of Capua. Conquests on the Mainland The ceremony was another turning point in the history of the Normans in the south, in a slow process, not complete until the reign of Roger II, of transition from brigandage to legitimation and more extensive power. The three chief narratives show both Robert’s advances and his setbacks. Some of the coastal cities such as Otranto and Brindisi were still Byzantine bases. Bari, which had shut its gates to the Normans, was the most important. In 1068 Robert closed off the landward side of the city, and constructed a blockade of ships joined by chains across the harbour and attached at each end to newly constructed jetties, from which knights could reach the ships if they came under attack. The Baresi ran short of food and tried to have Robert, who had based himself in the less than safe shelter of a leafy bower, assassinated. The attempt failed, but thereafter

Robert

was

protected

more

securely.

The

citizens appealed to the emperor, making it clear that after such a long siege they would have to surrender. The emperor ordered a fleet from Dyrrachion (Dürres) in

modern-day Albania under Joscelin, the Norman count of Molfetta and an enemy of Robert, to relieve the city. Robert’s brother Roger arrived with a fleet, which defeated that commanded by Joscelin, and the city surrendered.67 The lords of Apulia by no means accepted Robert Guiscard’s view that he had superior authority over them. The ‘sons of Amicus’ clan were persistently hostile. There was a serious revolt in 1067, led by Amicus son of Count Walter of Lesina and his father-in-law Joscelin of Molfetta, plus two of Robert’s nephews, Geoffrey of Conversano (Robert Curthose’s future father-in-law) and Abelard.68 Geoffrey resented having to accept Robert’s overlordship for land he had conquered independently, and Abelard resented the denial of his inheritance from his father, Humphrey de Hauteville. Godfrey, son of Peter, son of Amicus, captured Taranto, and the following year Robert of Montescaglioso,

another

nephew

of

Robert

Guiscard,

captured Matera and Montepeloso. There was another revolt in 1072–73 and yet another in 1082, again involving Geoffrey of Conversano, Abelard, and the latter’s halfbrother, Herman.69 Robert had some success along the Tyrrhenian coast. In 1073 Amalfi submitted to Robert and agreed to pay tribute, though the principality was only finally taken by Roger II in 1131. Robert successfully besieged Salerno in 1076. Its ruler, Gisulf, departed into exile and the city became Robert’s chief headquarters for the rest of his life. In the

following year Robert took Benevento on the death of its prince, despite the fact that the citizens had placed themselves under papal overlordship. However, Naples remained independent until 1137, Gaeta until 1140, and Capua until 1156. The frontier of Norman Italy – north of a line between Capua and the Gargano peninsula – remained open to further advances.70 Ralph, one of the two sons of Wimund, Lord of Moulins-la-Marche in Normandy, created a great lordship composed of formerly Lombard counties north of Benevento.71 By 1053 he was styling himself count of Boiano.72 Much of the region of Molise and the Abruzzi was mountainous; the latter had been part of the duchy of Spoleto, but by the early eleventh century ducal power there was diminishing and local lords were establishing defended villages. By 1064 the chronicle of San Clemente Casauria in the province of Pescara reported Norman attacks on the abbey lands.73 One group of Normans was headed by Robert of Loritello, the nephew of Robert Guiscard, who was advancing into papal territory, reaching Ortona in 1070 and, with Jordan of Capua, Chieti four years later. In 1075 he was excommunicated by Pope Gregory VII, who wrote of his ‘Godless insolence’, but five years later, in the face of his escalating quarrel with the Emperor Henry IV, Gregory was prepared to recognize the conquests that had been made.74

The Norman leaders had a crucial role to play in the complex and shifting dispute between pope and emperor. Henry IV had ambitions to reassert imperial authority in Italy, and also wanted to be crowned emperor by the pope, while the pope needed allies.75 The first round of his conflict with Henry had resulted in the latter’s famous submission at Canossa in 1077, but Henry’s behaviour led to a second excommunication by Gregory in 1080 and the election of an antipope, Clement III. Henry entered Italy in the following year and reached Rome, where the citizens denied him entry compelling him to retreat. Gregory called upon the Normans for aid, but none was immediately forthcoming. Henry made approaches to Robert Guiscard for an alliance, but the latter in any case was occupied with his Balkan campaign. In 1082 Henry IV laid siege to Rome. Jordan of Capua submitted and swore fealty to Gregory. Abbot Desiderius of Montecassino, in a difficult position, initially

refused

to

attend

Henry’s

court

and

when

pressured to do so, refused to swear fealty. Meanwhile Alexios Comnenos had provided Henry with gold in pursuit of a joint alliance against Guiscard, ‘the murderous and sinful enemy of God and Christians’ as Anna Comnena called him. This gave Henry the funds to bribe the Roman aristocracy into opening the gates of the city to his forces. Clement III duly crowned Henry as emperor at Easter 1084 whilst Gregory took refuge in Castel Sant’Angelo. Robert Guiscard and Robert of Loritello arrived at Rome three

days after the departure of emperor and anti-pope. Their forces ravaged a swathe of the city to such effect that Gregory found it was not safe for him to remain, and he left with Robert Guiscard for Salerno, where he was to die in the following year. By now Guiscard was calling himself ‘count of counts’ and ‘count by the Grace of God’.76 The Conquest of Sicily It was evident at least from the oath taken by Robert Guiscard to the pope in 1059 that the conquest of the island was in prospect, as he swore fealty and was invested ‘by the grace of God and St Peter as duke of Apulia and Calabria and in future, with the help of both, of Sicily’.77 The principal source for the conquest of Sicily is the chronicle of Geoffrey Malaterra, supplemented by the anonymous building

Historia

on

Sicula

Malaterra,

which,

added

though

material

later from

and other

sources.78 According to Malaterra, Roger was in Reggio when, seeing how narrow the straits of Messina were, he wanted to reclaim the land from the infidels. With only a small force he crossed the straits of Messina in 1059 and took Messina by using the ruse of a feigned flight.79 Robert joined him in 1060. Together they made headway in the north of the island, especially in the north-east region, the Val

Demone,

where

many

of

the

inhabitants

were

Christians who wanted to be rid of their Muslim rulers.80 The brothers went their separate ways at the end of the

1061 campaign, Robert going to Apulia and Roger to Calabria; the latter returned in 1062, married, and returned to Mileto.81 Roger succeeded in holding the fortress at Mesiano against his brother, then built a castle at Gerace near Reggio, and finally crossed to Sicily.82 Having been besieged at Troina for several months, in 1063 Roger marched a relatively small force of knights against greatly superior numbers including Africans and Arabs as well as Sicilians, at Cerami. Malaterra provides the only account of the battle, in perhaps a conscious counterpoint to the battle of Civitate in which Robert Guiscard had played a leading role. Roger’s army included his nephew Serlo de Hauteville and Roussel de Bailleul, who went on to serve the Byzantine emperor (see above, pp. 53–7). The Normans made their confessions and received penance before the battle. Serlo was sent ahead with a small force to hold the castle, showing that ‘God was their benefactor’. When the main army arrived, Roger was initially uncertain whether to give battle as the day seemed to have been won already, but he was urged on, and so drew his forces up in two lines. Their men were spurred on by calling them to remember the protection of God: as God was leading them so they would be victorious. A knight clad in shining armour and mounted on a white horse then appeared and advanced with the battle line. The soldiers knew him for St George, who carried a banner with a cross. Count Roger killed the caid of Palermo himself, instilling

fear into the enemy who, despite the fact that they outnumbered the Normans, fled. The following day the Normans fought a large army which had taken refuge in the mountains, killing many, and ransoming the rest. Camels were captured, four of which were dispatched to the pope who in return sent a papal banner.83 In the following year Robert returned to Sicily wanting to share in the spoils, and the two captured Bugamo, before Robert returned to the mainland.84 Between 1068 and 1071 Robert was preoccupied with the capture of Bari, and once again Roger arrived there to give assistance.85 In 1071 the two captured Palermo. In the following year Robert left the island never to return, but held on to half of the city of Palermo, Messina and the Val Demone, granting the rest of the island to Roger.86 At this point Malaterra concluded Book II, and on beginning the third book said he was going to deal with the brothers separately. Whereas before everything Roger had gained was in partnership with his brother, now he knew that all his gains would be his alone.87 Malaterra continued to describe the campaigns of both brothers. Although Robert never entered Sicily again, Roger was present in Calabria whilst Robert was at Dyrrachion.88 The two also launched a joint expedition against Jordan, Prince of Capua.89 After Robert’s death, Malaterra related that Roger offered his help to his nephew Roger Borsa to establish himself in Apulia, Calabria and the Principate, but

went back to Sicily to deal with a revolt of the ruler of Syracuse, which surrendered in 1085.90 Noto was the last stronghold to fall, in either 1090 or 1091.91 Malaterra thus could not avoid the question of the relations between the brothers, and presumably did not want to. He represented Robert literally as the cunning one, who wriggled out of commitments, and Roger as the loyal lieutenant, who loyally responded to requests for assistance. What justification did the brothers have for their invasion? The

papal

sanction

of

1059,

if

accurately

reported, is clear enough. Malaterra was careful to develop the theme of a conquest approved by God, and he also claimed that Roger was encouraged by an exiled Sicilian emir.92 As towns and cities fell to the Normans, Latin churches and monasteries were built, and victories were recognized as being the result of God’s favour. Malaterra was writing whilst the First Crusade was still in progress. Count Roger and his nephew Roger Borsa did not sign up, but again Malaterra had to recognize this, which he did in the context of the siege of Amalfi which had to be abandoned

because

so

many

young

men

followed

Bohemond and went on Crusade.93 Knowledge of the First Crusade may well have shaped Malaterra’s presentation of events, and his emphasis on the recovery of Sicily for the Christian church. There is a case that the Barbastro expedition of 1064 and the conquest of Sicily

were

precursors

of

that

Crusade,

citing

the

indulgences of Pope Alexander II and Gregory VII to Roger.94 Malaterra consistently emphasized divine approval for the conquest. His work ended with Pope Urban’s privilege to Count Roger of 1098. No legate was to be appointed in Roger’s lands without his approval. If a papal council was to be held, the count would be notified so he could send bishops and abbots.95 In other words, the papal bull, issued by the pope who had proclaimed the Crusade, recognized what Roger had been doing to ‘extend the church of God’ by waging a Crusade in his own lands. Sicily was not the end of the story. The Normans in the south had been brought into contact with complex political and trading relationships, as well as raiding parties by those whom contemporaries called Saracens. In north Africa the Zirids ruled, and from time to time sent armed expeditions to Sicily. Count Roger’s forces were in action against them on more than one occasion.96 The wealth of the Zirid capital of Mahdia attracted the attentions of the Pisans and Genoese, who attacked the city in 1087.97 Mahdia prospered as a centre on the trade route bringing gold from sub-Saharan Africa to be exchanged for Sicilian corn. In fact, Roger I seems to have established an accommodation with Tamim, the ruler of Kairouan in modern-day Tunisia. There were other possibilities for Roger to expand beyond Sicily. He captured the Muslimheld islands of Malta and neighbouring Gozo in 1091.98 Under his son there were even further advances along the

north African coastline. These gains proved not to be permanent, and Mahdia fell to the Almohads in 1160.99 The Hautevilles and Byzantium The history of the Normans in Italy was intertwined with that of Byzantium, which claimed authority over southern Italy and Sicily and still exercised power in Apulia. The Normans had served in the emperor’s army in Maniakes’s expedition to Sicily in 1038. They would have known about the rewards of service, and the possibility of acquiring land. Robert Guiscard undoubtedly kept a close eye on events in the empire where, as we have seen, the peril from Seljuk advances into Anatolia was matched by internal dissension

and

faction-fighting

within

the

Byzantine

elite.100 After the battle of Manzikert in 1071, the defeated emperor, Romanos IV, was sidelined and succeeded by Michael VII Doukas. Michael began negotiations with Robert Guiscard, who had recently augmented his power by capturing Bari. Eventually it was agreed that Michael’s infant son Constantine would marry Robert’s daughter Olympias (Helena). Psellus provides the terms of the treaty.101 The duke was offered the title of nobilissimus, titles and pensions for others, in all amounting to annual payments of two hundred pounds of gold. Robert was to promise not to attack the empire’s frontiers and to help in driving away the emperor’s enemies. The bride was to be treated as an empress consort, and she was dispatched to Constantinople, arriving in 1076.

The marriage gave Robert prestige and the possibility that a grandson might become emperor. It was not to be: Michael VII faced several rebellions and in 1078 retired to the monastery of Stoudios in Constantinople. The position of

Robert’s

daughter,

still

in

Constantinople,

was

precarious. In 1080 a pretender appeared in southern Italy claiming to be Michael VII, who said he had been forced to enter the monastery because he had arranged the marriage of Constantine and Helena. Constantine had been castrated and exiled so he could never have a son by such an ignoble woman.102 They were afraid, Malaterra wrote, that imperial heirs born to a Norman woman would mean that the Greeks, more used to pleasure than to war, would be overrun. Notwithstanding the flimsy claim of the pretender, his presence in Italy gave Robert a pretext for invasion. Pope Gregory VII, concerned about restoring concord with the eastern church, and about the persecution of Christians at the hands of the Seljuks, was prepared to back the pretender.103

In

1080

he

excommunicated

Michael’s

successor and wrote to the bishops of Apulia and Calabria to support Michael’s restoration to the imperial throne.104 Anna Comnena believed that Robert’s intention was always to seize the empire for himself, and her view gains support from Malaterra.105 Malaterra reported that there were those in the duke’s entourage who knew what the real Michael VII looked like and said that the pretender was totally different. Robert, however, did not care, and began

to assemble an invasion fleet at Otranto. Bohemond was to be his second-in-command, and there were obviously possibilities of providing for his son with land in Illyria or Epirus, rather than Italy.106 Already there were traders from Venice and Amalfi operating in the coastal towns on the eastern shores of the Adriatic. Anna Comnena writing later blamed them for handing over Dyrrachion to Robert Guiscard in 1081.107 Robert’s first expedition of fifteen ships and allegedly no more than thirteen hundred knights set out from Otranto and reached the island of Corfu, which surrendered, as did the towns of Butrint and Valona (Vlorë).108 He proceeded then to besiege Dyrrachion, which was situated at the Adriatic end of the Via Egnatia, the Roman road leading to Constantinople. The siege was reported by both Malaterra and Anna Comnena, whose father Alexios was now the new emperor. Robert had a large army which included the supposed Emperor Michael VII who was paraded to the citizens of Dyrrachion. Though Michael was richly dressed and had an imposing escort, according to Anna the citizens poured scorn on the idea that this was their emperor.109 Alexios set out in person to the city, and instructed the Venetian fleet to blockade the port at Dyrrachion so that if the Normans were defeated they would not be able to escape by sea. Robert sent Bohemond to order the Venetians to proclaim Michael emperor, but the Venetians followed the emperor’s orders and lashed their boats together to form a boom.

When the Normans fought the Venetians at sea, the result was a stalemate. The Venetians, having promised to surrender, attacked instead and reached the harbour where they used terrifying Greek fire against the besiegers. The siege dragged on. The besiegers who were trying to escape had to run the gauntlet of Robert’s wife, Sichelgaita, who urged them to renew their attack with the words ‘Halt, be men!’, charging at them full gallop with a spear. Alexios arrived with a huge army including the Varangians who attacked in a two-pronged formation but were forced into flight. The emperor retreated, and Robert established a siege castle he called ‘Guiscard’, and persuaded one of the leading Venetians to change sides with the promise that he would marry Robert’s niece, so the city was captured.110 This was another remarkable victory, and Pope Gregory VII sent a message of congratulation.111 Clearly then, had Robert been able to establish himself permanently in Dalmatia and Epirus, his rule would have secured papal legitimization. Gregory, like Urban II and Paschal II, wanted to see a reunification of the Latin with the Greek church and saw Robert’s gains from this perspective. Robert moved on via the valley of the river Devol to Kastoria, which was defended by three hundred Varangians who chose to surrender. At this point news reached Robert that the western Emperor Henry IV was in Italy, advancing on Rome. Robert appointed Bohemond as his deputy and left for Italy. Bohemond advanced on Ioannina, and

defeated Alexios there.112 He then advanced on Ohrid and defeated another army; he captured Trikkala and besieged Larissa.113 However, elsewhere Norman successes had been reversed. The Venetians took Dyrrachion, Alexios retook Kastoria, and some of the Normans at Valona went over to the emperor.114 Bohemond fell ill and returned to Salerno for treatment.115 However, his father Robert had not abandoned his Balkan ambitions. After his ‘rescue’ of Pope Gregory VII in 1084, he crossed the Adriatic again in October of that year, aiming to relieve the garrison on Corfu. A naval battle took place off Butrint between his forces and a ByzantineVenetian fleet, which Robert won.116 He then sent his son Roger on to Cephalonia, following him later. However Robert, like many of his army, fell ill and died on Cephalonia.117 Bohemond’s career shows that he too had ambitions in Byzantium, though in his father’s lifetime he appears only as second-in-command. After his father’s death his first concern was a struggle to obtain a share of Guiscard’s legacy in Italy. According to William of Apulia, Robert had designated Roger Borsa as his heir in Apulia, Calabria, and Sicily in 1081.118 In Malaterra’s version of events following Robert’s death, Roger Borsa and Bohemond had fought each other to succeed their father but the former won because he was backed by Roger, the Great Count, Guiscard’s brother.119 The fact that Roger controlled Sicily

and had access to its great wealth would have made his the decisive voice in the succession to Robert Guiscard. Even so, Bohemond was able to establish himself in a number of strongholds, notably Taranto and Bari, the latter in exchange for Cosenza. When Roger Borsa fell ill and rumour of his death spread, Bohemond promptly made a move on Calabrian fortresses, as did certain other lords, and only when Roger recovered his health was order restored.120 At this stage of his career, then, Bohemond had his hands full in Italy. What changed was the proclamation of the First Crusade and his decision to answer the pope’s call. Conclusion At the end of the eleventh century the Hauteville family had not established their authority over all other lords and cities. Revolts and resistance persisted, especially in Apulia,

and

the

Hautevilles

were

divided

amongst

themselves. Had Bohemond not left on the Crusade, there would have been further trouble. The Normans were too few in number to be anything other than a tiny minority, soon diluted by intermarriage with non-Normans, and hence they made only a limited impact on language and culture in the south. Nevertheless, they were successful, and that success was due to timing and context: they were operating at a time and in a region where imperial authority west and east was necessarily only exercised sporadically, Lombard lords

were busy fighting each other, and in Sicily local lords had taken power from their North African rulers. There were ready paymasters, and there were those who, chafing under their rulers, like the Apulian lords paying Byzantine taxes, offered opportunities to the newcomers. They prospered through brigandage, even robbing pilgrims it was said by a Norman traveller.121 In the early years they were truly cynical, serving their own interests above all.122 Others flocked to join successful commanders. Richard of Capua was invited to take over the town of Genzano, whose knights ‘made gifts of themselves’, and more knights flocked to join him as he distributed booty.123 Small towns sometimes simply surrendered rather than suffer sieges, as the Normans specialized in devastating the surrounding countryside. At some point, as land and cities were occupied, it was needful to secure legitimization, whether this came from the western emperors, Henry II, Conrad II, and Henry III, or

from

popes,

especially

Nicholas

II.

Archdeacon

Hildebrand, later Pope Gregory VII, seems to have been in touch with the Normans at the time Nicholas II and Alexander II took up office.124 When Hildebrand became Pope Gregory VII relations became more difficult, as the Normans’ leaders, Robert Guiscard and Richard of Capua, were insufficiently conformable. Only when Gregory found himself

besieged

by

imperial

forces

in

the

Castel

Sant’Angelo did Robert Guiscard ride to the rescue, devastating the city of Rome when he arrived. The larger cities, such as Salerno, Capua, Bari, Palermo, Syracuse, and Dyrrachion presented more of a challenge. Sometimes the sieges were not lengthy or conclusive: Salerno was besieged in 1052 and again in 1076, for instance. Full-scale sieges needed sufficient manpower to sustain besiegers over months or even, in the case of Bari, years. Not only that, but it was necessary to stop supplies reaching the besieged by sea. In 1068 for instance, the Byzantine commander at Bari had managed to escape to Constantinople to request a relief force be sent. Robert Guiscard and Roger soon learned to appreciate the need for ships to transport men, horses and supplies and to blockade harbours.125 In the early years ships were simply acquired as needed. The Muslims’ arsenal at Palermo was inherited, and a further arsenal at Messina may date back to Roger I’s time.126 There were notable battles at sea, as in 1071 when Roger’s fleet engaged that sent by the Byzantine emperor to Bari, and, in the same year, when Robert Guiscard defeated a fleet off Palermo. The sieges of Bari and Palermo particularly involved both land and naval forces. As time went on, Robert Guiscard and his brother Roger

gained

experience

in

using

shipping,

key

to

transporting troops and supplies or, in the case of Bari, for blockading the harbour.

There were inevitably setbacks and defeats, especially in the early years. When the Byzantines reinforced their regime in the south with manpower and able generalship, they were hard to beat, but changes of rulership and challenges elsewhere meant that their efforts either to shore up their hold over Apulia and Calabria or to recover Sicily were not sustained. For the western emperors the kingdom of Italy still mattered, but when they did appear and travelled south, they had to build alliances with those who held power locally. When Henry III did try to use force, at Troia, it failed, and the force he sent to the papal coalition in 1053 was soundly beaten by the Normans at Civitate. Thus the tide of fortune slowly turned in the Normans’ favour, and here the leadership, especially of Richard of Capua, Robert Guiscard and his brother Roger, was critically important. As leaders they had the qualities needed to attract and keep followers, to assess the opposition (not for nothing was Robert nicknamed ‘the wily’). They were not always successful, but pitched battles were won at Civitate and Cerami, and they learned the arts of large-scale sieges and naval warfare. In other words, a handful of Normans were successful wheelers and dealers. They were able warriors, but not invincible or innovative in war. They were arch-opportunists in an age of opportunism.

CHAPTER FIVE

NORMANS IN BRITAIN brother Roger were busy W in southern Italy and Sicily, Duke William of Normandy HILST ROBERT GUISCARD AND HIS

was assembling a large fleet to transport knights, horses, and equipment across the Channel. The invasion of England in 1066 was highly risky but spectacularly successful. Within three months his army had won a major military victory in Sussex on 14 October during which Harold and his brothers were killed and the remaining members of the family had fled, the duke had entered London and was crowned on Christmas Day. Within the space of a few years he had displaced almost the entire English elite, both lay and clerical, with his chief men soon in

possession

of

strategic

commands.

Resistance

in

Yorkshire and the north-east was brutally crushed, and Normans were pushing west into Welsh territory. This was a military conquest, carried through much quicker and more thoroughly than in Italy, and its effects were transformative

both

on

England,

the

kingdom’s

relationships with its neighbours in the British Isles, and its wider relations with Scandinavia and France. The focus here is on the eleventh century, and on England and Wales. Norman penetration into Scotland was only just beginning, and in Ireland it took place later and in a different political context.

The events of 1066 and the conquest that followed were reported and analysed at the time and have been ever since.1 The Norman accounts by William of Jumièges and William of Poitiers and the Bayeux Tapestry present the Norman justification, that William was King Edward’s nominated heir, and that Harold had sworn to recognize that right of succession but had broken his oath.2 The battle of Hastings was celebrated in the Latin poem the

Song of the Battle of Hastings (Carmen de Hastingae Proelio).3 The anonymous Life of King Edward offers a retrospective view of the Confessor’s reign and his relations with the house of Godwin.4 Versions of the AngloSaxon Chronicle were still being composed in England.5 From the later eleventh century Benedictine monks at Worcester, Canterbury, Malmesbury and Durham were composing more extended histories, valuable for their interpretation of the events of 1066, as indeed were archdeacon Henry of Huntingdon and Orderic Vitalis, based at the abbey of Saint-Evroul in Normandy.6 When Domesday Book, letters and charters are added in, it is obvious that the historian is not short of source material.7 1066 is the only date in medieval English history widely recognized, and it is still viewed as a turning point in the history of the nation. In the later twentieth century new approaches and methodologies such as databases of Domesday

Book,

archaeological

investigations,

and

landscape history have added to our understanding, as

have

the

contributions

of

linguists,

archaeologists,

architectural and landscape historians.8 The continuing flood of publications alone validates a fresh synoptic account. Here we explore why and how it happened, and assess its consequences. Why did Duke William of Normandy invade England? The simple answer is that he felt that the throne was his by right. Edward the Confessor, lacking an heir, had turned to his kinsman, William, and made an offer of the succession, conveyed by Robert of Jumièges, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been forced into exile by the powerful Godwin family.9 Later he sent Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, who committed himself to help Duke William to the throne. When the king died, Harold broke his oath and was crowned king. William assembled an army, and crossed to England to maintain his right, and his victory in battle showed God’s favour to him and his cause. How much of this version is true has been much debated.

Did

King

Edward

really

offer

William

the

succession and, in any case, was it his to give? What about the rights of the children of Edward the Exile, Edmund Ironside’s son, who was descended from the old royal line of Wessex? Did Harold pledge his word to support William’s succession? What does seem to have been the case, as David Bates has pointed out, is that William felt entitled to the

succession.10

Harold’s

accession,

following

the

commitments he had made to William, was a slight which the duke felt bound to avenge. Moreover, William had form in this respect as the grounds for his previous interventions in Maine and Brittany were based on somewhat thin grounds. According to William of Poitiers, Count Herbert of Maine had promised that William should succeed him if he were to die without heirs.11 He added that Maine had been part of the grant

made

to

Rollo.12

Maine,

sandwiched

between

Normandy and Anjou, suffered from the attentions of the rulers

of

both

in

the

eleventh

century.13

William

accordingly claimed the county on behalf of his son, and advanced into Maine, receiving the submissions of Le Mans and Mayenne.14 The rival claimant, Count Walter of the Vexin, and his wife, died suddenly at the Norman castle of Falaise, poisoned, it was claimed later.15 As Walter was a nephew of Edward the Confessor, his death also removed one of the rival claimants to the English throne.16 Thus a claim based on the will of the last count of Maine was backed up by force and a ruthless disposal of the chief rivals. Where William’s takeover of Maine differed from that of England, however, was that there was no massive expropriation of the landed elite: it was sufficient to control Le Mans, and to sack the great castle of Mayenne.17 Secondly, William of Poitiers claimed that the duke’s intervention in Brittany in 1064 was justified by Charles the Simple’s original grant of land to Rollo in 911, and by Duke

William’s kinship to the count.18 During the tenth century the Normans can hardly have exercised any realistic authority over the Bretons, but their histories were closely intertwined. Richard II had married Judith, sister of Geoffrey, Count of Brittany (992–1008), and relations between the dukes of Normandy and Brittany seem to have improved for a time. However, in 1064 William marched to relieve the castle of Dol being held by his ally Rivallon against the then duke, Conan.19 He then attacked Dinan and Rennes where Conan surrendered, as vividly depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry.20 When the news arrived in Normandy of Edward’s death, then Harold’s accession and coronation, William had to make a decision. The longer Harold stayed on the throne the greater the likelihood that he would become more secure and harder to remove. William must have calculated that if he did not take his chance, then others would. Harold’s exiled brother Tostig was evidently planning to return to England. It was said that he visited Swein Estrithson, King of Denmark for help in recovering his lost earldom, and Swein had a claim of his own to the English throne as a nephew of King Cnut.21 In fact Swein had only recently made peace with Harold Hardrada, who had left Byzantine service and returned to Scandinavia via Kievan Rus. Harold had become King of Norway, challenged Swein for control of Denmark, and believed his claim to Denmark meant that he had a right to succeed to the English throne

as well.22 In the short term Swein probably did not feel sufficiently secure to leave Scandinavia. Tostig went on to the court of Harold Hardrada.23 The pair sailed for England, prospected along the English coast, and finally moved towards York via the Humber estuary. At York the Anglo-Danish population had rebelled against Tostig as earl, but there remained the possibility that he and his allies could negotiate a return.24 If the possibility of Harold Hardrada and the Norwegians failed, there was still some chance of a Danish fleet. The fact was that it was less than thirty years since Danes had ruled England, and they could do so again. Moreover, Edward’s death occurred at a time when William was relatively secure at home, and when his absence was less likely to tempt his enemies to attack. Geoffrey III, ‘the bearded’ count of Anjou, was facing a challenge to his power from his brother Fulk, who was to seize power in 1067.25 Philip I, King of France was a minor in the custody of Baldwin V, Count of Flanders, William’s father-in-law.26 Flanders had been a refuge for the house of Godwin during their difficulties, most recently Tostig, Harold’s brother, exiled from his earldom of Northumbria in 1065.27 However, Count Baldwin did not engage directly with William’s expedition, though many individual Flemings did participate.28 William could call on a small inner group of men who had been his close friends, allies, and kinsmen for years

and whom he had enriched. They had the resources he needed, and they needed him to continue his generosity.29 William had refashioned the ruling elite around his person, promoting a small group headed by William FitzOsbern, Roger of Montgomery, Roger of Beaumont, and his halfbrothers Robert, Count of Mortain and Odo, Bishop of Bayeux.30 This small inner group, as Warren Hollister pointed out, contributed the greatest resources to the 1066 expedition

and

accordingly

received

the

greatest

rewards.31 So William chose to invade in 1066 through a sense that he had been dishonoured, because if he did not others were waiting to pounce, and because he could. Nor can the attraction of a royal title and great wealth be discounted. On the other hand, a seaborne invasion was extremely risky. Not only did a great army, its weaponry and horses have to be assembled, but also transported. The Bayeux Tapestry

rightly

allocates

a

good

deal

of

space

to

shipbuilding, logistics, and horse transports. The months ticked by, and by the time the fleet set off on 27 September, it was late in the year for starting a campaign. On the plus side, William would have been informed that Harold, having collected a great land army and fleet, had had to let the soldiers go home in early September because their provisions were exhausted, and his ships had been sent from the Isle of Wight to London, incurring losses on the way.32 The news that the king was in the north fighting

Tostig and the Norwegians probably meant that the fleet’s landing in Sussex would be unopposed, but if, as must have seemed likely, Harold did not choose to fight straight away, William would have to overwinter his army and face losses through desertion and disease, whilst his enemies might attack Normandy in his absence. William’s good fortune in 1066 continued after his landing at Pevensey because he was able to tempt Harold into battle. To this end, he ravaged in Sussex, part of Harold’s family lands, and built a fort at Hastings which meant his retreat was covered.33 Had Harold chosen to stay in London and gather reinforcements, William would have been forced to overwinter in the south.34 As it was, Harold threw what forces he had into battle: his own military following, fatigued after a hard-fought battle in the north, plus such shire levies as could arrive in time. His calculation was evidently that, having defeated and killed Tostig and Harold Hardrada, he would be able to defeat William similarly before the onset of winter. The gamble very nearly paid off, for when the two armies met the battle went on all day. It was basically only brought to an end when the leaders on the English side, Harold, and his brothers Gyrth and Leofwin, were killed, and English resistance was finally broken.35 A decisive victory did not in itself guarantee the throne to William, but it must have given the other members of the lay elite, Edwin, Earl of Mercia and his brother Morcar,

Earl of Northumbria, pause for thought. William selfevidently did not want to see opposition coalesce round Edgar Ætheling, grandson of Edmund Ironside. When Edwin and Morcar made contact with William, both were confirmed in their lands and titles, and Edwin was offered a Norman bride. This must have been decisive in persuading the two earls to back William, not Edgar.36 William next needed access to London.37 The Londoners too submitted, and William was able to proceed to a speedy coronation, another important factor in his success. Bishops and abbots were powerful players in English society and most tacitly accepted regime change. William was now able to start distributing the spoils of victory.38 He appointed William FitzOsbern and Odo, Bishop of Bayeux as his lieutenants before

returning

to

Normandy

with

a

boatload

of

hostages.39 Good luck and speed could not have been foreseen, but they help to explain William’s initial success. By Easter 1067 William had been crowned and had established a bridgehead in the south and south-east of England. Within a couple of years the Normans were moving into the midlands and north, building castles at key points.40 There was trouble in the north in 1068 led by Edgar and the Northumbrians, and again in 1069, the year of the most serious resistance to the Normans. Edgar Ætheling and defeated Englishmen joined a Danish fleet and took York.41 The Danes were driven out of York, and took refuge in north Lincolnshire.42 In 1070 King Swein of

Denmark himself appeared with a fleet, and was paid to go away.43 Meanwhile, Edgar Ætheling had once again taken refuge at the court of King Malcolm of Scots.44 William took his revenge on the northerners by a campaign of harrying during the winter of 1069–70.45 With the death of Earl Edwin and the capture of Earl Morcar, the worst seemed to be over for the Normans.46 The five years between William’s victory at Hastings and the end of the siege of Ely in 1071 were thus particularly difficult and dangerous. As John Gillingham pointed out, William did not have much experience of battle in 1066, but at Hastings he proved to be a courageous and resolute commander.47 There remained the possibility that Edgar would be able to open up a second front in the north, but he chose instead to leave Malcolm’s court after Malcolm ‘made his peace with King William’ at Abernethy in 1072.48 There was a major revolt by three earls in 1075 whilst William was out of the country, but this was successfully contained, and a Danish fleet arrived too late to affect the outcome.49 Otherwise the Scots in the north and the possibility of a Danish invasion remained the chief external threats. In 1084 Cnut IV of Denmark began to gather a large fleet for an invasion, triggering extensive actions in England, but in the event the fleet did not arrive as Cnut was murdered before it sailed, and the crisis was averted.50 By the time of the Domesday Survey in 1086 there had been an almost clean sweep of the top level of the pre-

Conquest lay and clerical elite. Moreover, many of the new tenants-in-chief had often distributed land in turn to their men.51 Some succeeded to the lands held by named English predecessors, either as individuals or as office holders, such as the pre-Conquest earls or sheriffs. Other lordships were more obviously the result of radical restructuring, to provide support, for instance, to castles. Beneath the level of direct concern to the king many English landholders probably remained in situ, some on only a fraction of their former holdings, or holding a farm.52 Moreover, despite much

drastic

reorganization

there

was

also

often

substantial continuity in estate structure.53 As far as chronology is concerned, it is clear, as might be expected, that the new tenurial landscape took shape earlier in the south than in the midlands or the north. Paul Dalton has argued persuasively that it was after the harrying of the north in 1069–70 that some of the most important lay lordships in Yorkshire came into being.54 North and west of Yorkshire little progress had been made in settling Normans on the land. Similarly it is clear that lands were not granted out in certain regions in a once-forall distribution. Adjustments were made to take account of those who, having been granted lands, gave them up or, like Bretons in 1075, were involved in rebellion. In east Anglia, for instance, the estates of Earl Ralph de Gael, who had fled to his Breton lands after the defeat of the revolt, had been redistributed by 1086.55

Members of the new elite, the tenants-in-chief, now had to accept that their lands were held ‘of’ King William, with all the obligations that entailed.56 Soon quotas of military service were established on both ecclesiastical and lay tenants-in-chief.57 The extent to which this newly formed relationship broke new ground has been debated for centuries. There were certain features which were surely novel, notably its pervasiveness and the nature of the service provided, as fully equipped mounted warriors. The new lords famously built castles throughout the land and in recent years there has been much debate about the extent to which Norman castles differed from pre-Conquest fortified dwellings.58 After 1066 and in regions far from the front line the new lords might simply have moved into existing residences, sometimes building a tower as a lookout and safe refuge, or perhaps strengthening gate defences.59 Often, however, they built motte and bailey castles, especially in the border regions with Wales.60 As well as an almost complete revolution in the topmost tier of lay society, within a very few years almost all bishops had either died or had been removed and succeeded by foreigners, together with the abbots of the most important Benedictine houses. Papal legates held a council at Winchester at Easter 1070, and it was here that Archbishop Stigand of Canterbury and his brother Æthelmaer, Bishop of Elmham were deposed, as were three abbots and the (married) bishop of Lichfield. Æthelric, former bishop of

Durham, and Æthelwine, his brother and successor as bishop, were both outlawed.61 In 1070 Lanfranc, Abbot of St Stephen’s Caen and a close adviser of William in Normandy, was selected as archbishop of Canterbury.62 In the same year Thomas of Bayeux, who had served Bishop Odo of Bayeux before moving into royal service as a chaplain, was chosen to succeed Ealdred at York.63 By this time there were only three English bishops left, Leofric of Exeter, Siward of Rochester, and Wulfstan of Worcester and two Lotharingian, Giso of Wells and Hermann of Sherborne. By the end of William’s reign only Wulfstan of Worcester remained, and most of those who had been appointed were Normans.64 It was a similar story in the major Benedictine abbeys which commanded great wealth and local influence. New abbots were brought in from the great Norman ducal houses, especially Jumièges, St Stephen’s Caen, Fécamp and Mont-Saint-Michel.65 All the major churches were rebuilt on a vast scale, and within a relatively short time frame. What was more, they were built in a style that had been relatively unknown in England. Only King Edward’s Westminster Abbey and Abbot Æthelsige’s St Augustine were recent building projects, the former Romanesque and the latter possibly drawing for inspiration on the abbey church at Charroux in France, or on Rhineland churches in Germany. The scale of some of the new cathedrals was enormous, and it has been argued that there was a deliberate intention to match old

St. Peter’s in Rome (see below, p. 216).66 In monasteries the aim was different, to provide a suitable setting for monastic worship, and for the veneration of saints. When the new lords acquired lands, they often found they had also come into possession of churches. Many were soon transferred to monasteries as acts of piety, and also because increasingly lay possession of churches and tithes was being frowned on by reformers. Those Normans who had already endowed Norman monasteries often gave English

churches

to

them.67

Apart

from

the

king’s

foundation at Battle, only two magnates, Earl Hugh of Chester and Earl Roger of Montgomery, established new abbeys in England, Chester and Shrewsbury abbeys respectively, whilst William de Warenne and his wife Gundrada founded Lewes Priory.68 One of the reasons the Normans were able to root themselves in England was their speedy control of the levers of power. Latin charters were drawn up in the name of the new king by Regenbald, head of King Edward’s writing office, who was succeeded by Normans.69 Writs were dispatched to the leading men of each shire, initially the earl, bishop and sheriff.70 After the removal of most earls, sheriffs moved centre stage as the key royal agents whose responsibilities included royal lands and rights, the administration of pledging groups and sitting in the shire courts.71 The office was soon filled by Normans, some of whom greatly enriched themselves.72 Sheriffs oversaw a

network of reeves, the men with local knowledge who knew what should be paid, and thus they played a key role in the information gathering which fed into Domesday Book.73 Coinage remained a royal monopoly. Coining was carried out locally according to a national design, and the coin in circulation, the penny, had a very high silver content. Moneyers were men of substance in the boroughs who made a profit by changing old superseded coin for new. Their names were on the coins so we can see most continued to have English names.74 The king could profit by charging moneyers for a new design or type. Weight changes as well as new designs were ways the king and the moneyers could profit, but it seems that at some point William decided to stabilize the weight rather than continue the practice.75 The king’s duty to maintain order was reflected in his central role in law and justice and William swore to uphold the laws at this coronation. Codes of law had been issued in the name of pre-Conquest kings, and these, together with post-Conquest updates, were copied and translated in the Norman period.76 The Normans were to be governed according to their own legal customs.77 There were areas of innovation: laws to protect Normans from murder, to protect the king’s hunting and the procedure of trial by battle;78 meanwhile the new tenurial relationships shaped land law.79 Tom Lambert has recently argued that overall the Conquest had a major effect on English law and

justice.80 One area was procedure. According to AngloSaxon law, freemen of good reputation were able to clear themselves of charges swearing oaths supported by their neighbours. The Normans, however, fearing that oathswearing meant that Englishmen would be able to wriggle out of charges by having the support of their countrymen, introduced trial by combat instead. Another area was punishment. The Normans were not familiar with fixed rates of compensation for homicide (wergilds) and such payments seem to disappear from the records quite quickly. The scope of royal justice grew. The idea that serious offences were not simply offences against the individual but more generally against the king’s peace grew. Whilst it is difficult to pinpoint a moment when the king’s peace was deemed to apply everywhere, there is no doubt that it grew stronger through statements such as that in Henry I’s Charter of Liberties of 1100 when the king stated that he imposed a strict peace on the land.81 Independent feuding declined. The role of the hundreds changed: these had come into being as a subdivision of the shire, responsible for financial and judicial obligations. Before 1066 they had been essentially self-regulating; afterwards the crown intervened more directly by making them liable to a heavy fine if, for instance, they failed to produce murderers before a justice. The church was another area within English law to be affected by the Norman Conquest. In general terms it was

accepted that offences against churchmen and church property, and offences against Christian morality, were all within the purview of the church, but as yet there were no separate church courts, and bishops might well need the backing of kings or sheriffs to bring wrongdoers to justice, either before the king himself, or in the public courts of shire and hundred. In particular, ecclesiastical pleas in the numerous hundred courts might be difficult for bishops’ officers to keep track of, and in a famous writ William ordered that henceforth they were not to deal with such pleas, though nothing was said about shire courts.82 In Normandy William was concerned that bishops were not to claim more jurisdictional rights than those to which they could demonstrate they had a right.83 The laws relating to hunting were also innovatory. Before 1066 hunting in royal reserves was forbidden, but lords were allowed to hunt on their own lands; after 1066 certain animals were put under royal protection in much larger areas, including land not held directly by the king (‘in demesne’) but also land held by others.84 Killing the protected animals or destroying their environment was severely punished.85 Royal governance varied considerably in its intensity in 1066 and was far from uniform across the country. Although politically united since the days of Æthelstan, the north particularly was a realm apart. The Scots held Cumbria, the rump of the old kingdom of Strathclyde and

Lothian, and Northumbria north of the river Tweed. The two centres of power in Northumberland were Bamburgh, a coastal stronghold, and Corbridge, which had been a Roman fort. The territory between the rivers Tyne and Tees notionally belonged to the church of Durham, but as yet the authority of the bishops was exiguous. The task of establishing the permanent frontier between the Scottish and English kingdoms had yet to be achieved. If the north was a region remote from the Normans’ centres of power in the south and across the Channel, it was closer to the heartland of Malcolm III, King of Scots (1058–93). He raided across the border both before and after 1066, married Margaret, daughter of Edward the Exile, and sheltered her brother Edgar Ætheling. In 1072 William went as far north as Abernethy where Malcolm ‘became his man and gave him hostages’.86 This did not stop Malcolm and Margaret receiving Edgar, who had been living in Flanders in 1074, and equipping him to cross to France where King Philip had promised him custody of the fortress of Montreuil-sur-Mer just beyond the Norman border. However the fleet was wrecked, and Edgar was advised to proceed south to the court of King William, who restored him to favour.87 Malcolm evidently was prepared to back his

brother-in-law’s

career,

but

Edgar’s

presence

at

William’s court between 1074 and 1086 when he left again, possibly for Apulia, would have inhibited backing his claim to the throne. The four eldest sons of Malcolm and

Margaret were given English names, Edward, Edmund, Æthelred and Edgar, thereby making a clear statement about their descent from the rightful kings of England. Malcolm raided over the border again in 1079 and was to do so again in 1091 and 1093.88 Meanwhile affairs in Durham had gone from bad to worse, as the bishop, who by this time was also exercising the powers of earl, was murdered in 1080.89 The Conqueror’s response to the first raid in 1080 was to

send

Odo

of

Bayeux

on

a

counter-raid

to

Northumberland, followed later in the same year by Robert Curthose with a second force. He penetrated Scotland as far

as

Falkirk

to

meet

Malcolm,

who

renewed

his

submission and again gave hostages. On the way south Robert ordered the building of a castle at Newcastle on Tyne, to protect the road south to Durham.90 Robert de Mowbray, who was appointed earl in succession to Aubrey at the end of the Conqueror’s reign, was involved in the revolt of 1088 against William Rufus.91 William Rufus’s approach to the Scots was more aggressive than his father’s had been. He marched north in 1092 as far as Carlisle, where a castle was built to lay claim to Cumbria.92 In the following year he quarrelled with Malcolm who returned to Scotland, gathered an army, and marched south. Robert de Mowbray’s men killed both Malcolm and his eldest son Edward, followed a few days later by the death of his wife Queen Margaret, it was said from grief.93

If Malcolm and Margaret had envisaged extending their influence over England, even perhaps of a union of crowns as was to happen in 1603, these deaths ended the possibility. The sons of Malcolm and Margaret had little option but to turn to the Normans for backing in their efforts to secure succession to the throne, and this bound them into a closer relationship first with Rufus and then with Henry I.94 The fifth son, Alexander (1107–24), married an illegitimate daughter of Henry I, his brother-in-law, and David, the youngest son, married the daughter of Earl Waltheof, heiress to great estates. Before their accession to the throne, Alexander and David held land in southern Scotland which in effect acted as a buffer zone between Scotland and England. Lordships and castles were built as the tenurial framework of the bishopric of Durham took shape, and by 1135 the north had been more fully integrated into the kingdom. In the years of conflict that followed it seemed that the border would be rolled back as King David took

over

Cumbria,

Lancashire,

Northumberland

and

Durham, only for this to be reversed once again in 1157.95 By the mid-twelfth century, then, the location of the Anglo-Scottish border was at the rivers Solway and Tweed.96 The Norman kings were prepared to accept submissions from Scots rulers, who continued to describe themselves as kings, while the Scots church claimed its independence from the archdiocese of York.97 Normans

who were given land in Scotland held it of the Scottish king. If they held land south of the border their English estates

were

held

of

the

English

king.

Continental

influences spread into Scotland. Although much was derived from the south it was not necessarily Norman: there were important Flemish and Northumbrian elements. By the end of the twelfth century Scotland had been ‘Europeanized’ in the sense used by Bartlett, but it was far from being ‘Normanized’. The border with Wales in the mid eleventh century also shifted. At different times English settlers moved west and Welsh east, and such movements are detectable in placename evidence.98 The rise to power over the Welsh kingdoms of Gruffydd ap Llewelyn (died 1063) presented a challenge for Edward the Confessor. Edward brought in French

and

Normans

to

shore

up

the

defences

of

Herefordshire, which were evidently of particular concern. Possibly Edward felt he could not rely on the loyalty of Earl Ælfgar of Mercia to resist the Welsh.99 At any rate, the powerful Welsh king ravaged Herefordshire in 1052, killing many Normans and local people.100 In 1055 he allied with the

then

exiled

Earl

Ælfgar

and

they

attacked

Herefordshire. King Edward’s earl, his nephew Ralph of Mantes,

fled

from

the

battle

with

his

Welsh

and

Normans.101 In the following year Leofgar, Bishop of Hereford, was killed, and in 1058 Ælfgar and Gruffydd returned with a force of Vikings.102 In 1063 Harold

Godwinson and Tostig mounted a two-pronged expedition to check Gruffydd, Harold in command of a fleet from Bristol, and Tostig from North Wales. This time their joint action was successful. Gruffydd fled to Snowdonia and was killed there by his own men.103 The Normans would have been well aware of the ongoing situation along the border with Wales. Earl Harold had taken over the earldom of Herefordshire and married Gruffydd’s widow Ealdgyth, daughter of Earl Ælfgar, with whom he is said in one source to have had a son.104 William FitzOsbern, one of the Conqueror’s leading commanders, went to Herefordshire at an early date.105 Although he was only there for a relatively short time, it is clear from Domesday Book that he had been busy. In a detailed study of Herefordshire, Chris Lewis has shown that William was granted the lands of King Edward, Earl Harold, Earl Morcar and Queen Edith, plus the lands of the sheriff, Alwine.106 This gave him, and his son and successor, a solid base from which to advance against the Welsh.107 In the middle and northern sectors of the frontier two further compact lordships were created. The former was granted

to

Roger

of

Montgomery,

another

of

the

Conqueror’s inner circle. By 1068 he held almost all the land in Shropshire which was not in the hands of the church by 1068. In turn he created three compact lordships for Warin the Bald, Corbet and Picot de Say. In Cheshire again all the land not held by the church was granted to an

earl, first Gherbod the Fleming and then to Hugh d’Avranches, who had probably already received lands in the midlands and the south.108 Within a few years Normans had crossed over the border into Wales. In 1072 and 1081 they are reported as having fought for Welsh princes. However, they were soon seizing Welsh territory on their own account, as is clear from Domesday Book. The most spectacular success story was that of Robert of Rhuddlan, a son of Humphrey de Tilleul, whom we met in the previous chapter (see above, pp. 59-60). He had advanced west of Chester into north Wales and Orderic Vitalis recounts Robert’s death in 1093 when he was alerted to the fact that Gruffydd, a Welsh king, (possibly but not certainly Gryffydd ap Cynan, King of Gwynedd), was stranded on the beach in ships loaded with booty,

and

attacked

them

despite

being

vastly

outnumbered.109 Orderic’s graphic account of Robert’s career and death raises a significant question about his justification for invading Welsh lands: At that time the neighbouring Britons who are commonly called Guali or Gualenses were attacking King William and his followers. So by the king’s command a castle was built at Rhuddlan to contain the Welsh, and was given to Robert with the duty of defending the kingdom of England against these barbarians. . . . After driving back the native Britons in

fierce combat he enlarged his territories and built a strongly fortified castle on the hill of Deganwy which is near to the sea. For fifteen years he harried the Welsh mercilessly, invaded the lands of men who when they still enjoyed their liberty had owed nothing to the Normans, pursued them through woods and marshes and over steep mountains and found different ways of securing

their

submission.

Some

he

slaughtered

mercilessly on the spot like cattle; others he kept for years in fetters, or forced into a harsh and unlawful slavery. It is not right that Christians should so oppress their brothers, who have been reborn in the faith of Christ by holy baptism. Pride and greed, which have a hold on the hearts of men everywhere, were the incentives that drove the marcher lord, Robert, to unrestrained plunder and slaughter; these deeds in time brought him to a terrible end.110 The first point he is making is that the Welsh were attacking the Normans, so the castle of Rhuddlan was built as a defence. Then Robert went onto the offensive and attacked the Welsh, building the castle of Deganwy, and killing or enslaving his captives. It was wrong, wrote Orderic, for Christians so to oppress other Christians, and it was pride and greed that brought about Robert’s undoing. Nevertheless, Orderic included in his History an elegant verse epitaph which celebrated Robert as a daring

warrior, generous and obedient to the church. He engaged in great feats of arms until he was killed in a rash attack. ‘Spare him, I beg, who called on blessed Mary even as he fell transfixed with many weapons.’ As far as Orderic was concerned

then,

resistance

to

Welsh

attacks

was

acceptable, but killing and enslaving fellow Christians was wrong. In other words, he sidestepped the question of territorial

expansion,

concentrating

instead

on

the

treatment of the Welsh, and the morality of Robert’s actions, which were not condemned in the epitaph. Norman

expansion

into

Welsh

territory

was

thus

occurring within a few years of the Conquest, and under Rufus and Henry I stretched across the breadth of south Wales. As time wore on, the Marcher Lords, as they came to be known, established considerable autonomy. Norman kings were prepared to accept acts of submission from Welsh princes, and Henry in particular granted them subsidies, but Normans were not forbidden to invade Welsh land as long as they were prepared to acknowledge that they held their land of the English king. What the Normans’ takeover did, so far as political relations within the British Isles were concerned, was to shift the balance of power further towards England. Norman lords invaded Welsh territories and expansion of the Scots southwards was pegged back. Archbishops of Canterbury asserted a primatial control not just over York but also over Welsh, Scottish, and Irish bishoprics. William

the Conqueror was too greatly occupied with various affairs of state to do much more than assert his paramount kingship, but under his sons the greater power of the English crown was realized. In a wider context the Conquest reorientated English politics and culture away from Scandinavia, preventing the recreation of Cnut’s Northern empire.111 However, efforts towards this end were indeed made. Harold Hardrada had joined forces with Tostig in 1066, and three years later Swein Estrithson arrived. An alliance between the Danes and Edgar, based in northern England, might well have forced William and his Normans back south of the Humber. Edgar had retreated to Scotland and Swein had been paid off in 1071, but after Swein’s death Cnut IV assembled a huge fleet and allied with Count Robert of Flanders. News of

this

planned

invasion

in

1085

alarmed

William

sufficiently to recruit a large mercenary force and to set in hand coastal defences. In the event, Cnut was assassinated and the invasion did not materialize, but clearly fleets from Scandinavia were continuing to arrive and, had the Normans’ hold on England faltered, there were rival claimants. Ties between those regions where Danes and Norwegians had settled in numbers, and Scandinavia, continued to be strong.112 From time to time Scandinavian rulers appeared in English waters, and their continuing presence in Scotland, the Hebrides and the Irish Sea had to

be reckoned with, and the possibility that the Norman kings might be removed only diminished over time.113 There

is

a

sharp

contrast

between

the

Norman

conquests in Italy and the English invasion, in context, numbers, and consequences. In the initial stages the differences were not as marked. In Italy the Normans were mercenaries, invited to serve, according to their apologists. Those who travelled to England under Queen Emma and, later, under Edward, were similarly seeking their fortunes. However, the invasion of 1066, led by the duke himself and aiming at the crown, brought migration on a much larger scale. For the narrators of the Normans, the conquest of England was a mighty victory, the success of which demonstrated

God’s

favour

towards

their

cause.

In

retrospect it was another phase in a protracted period of conflict marked by sustained attacks from Scandinavia and then competition for the throne. The need to raise armies and to defend the coast had posed logistical challenges even though the country was wealthy. Cnut and his sons had relied on a small group of nobles, increasingly dominated by Godwin, whose power Edward the Confessor had been unable to overturn. It may be argued that the Danes had laid the groundwork for a successful invasion by the Normans in 1066. It was also the case that Harold made a major tactical error in meeting William in pitched battle.

Harold

could

not

control

the

timing

of

the

Norwegian and Norman invasions. His march north to deal

with

Tostig

and

Harold

Hardrada

was

stunningly

successful, and he returned safely to the south. He evidently thought he could deal with William in the same way. Instead, once he had succeeded in battle, the Conqueror was able to buy off Edwin and Morcar and sideline Edgar Ætheling, have himself crowned and begin to stake out southern and midland England. If Harold had gambled, so did William, and against the odds an invading force established itself in permanent occupancy.

CHAPTER SIX

THE FIRST CRUSADE AND THE PRINCIPALITY OF ANTIOCH their T contribution to the First Crusade. toTheircelebrate duke, Robert HE

NORMANS

HAD

GOOD

REASON

1

Curthose, had been one of the Crusade’s leaders. He had distinguished himself in the major engagements, especially at the battles of Dorylaeum and Ascalon, and he had carried out the aim of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but was not seeking land for himself. From south Italy came Bohemond, the most charismatic of the leaders, with others of at least part-Norman ancestry born in the south, and it was thanks in no small measure to his ingenuity that the city of Antioch was captured. Bohemond and his nephew Tancred had succeeded in establishing a principality centred on the city which was to remain in western hands until the late thirteenth century. Yet for most of those who wrote soon after the events they described, the Crusade was not seen primarily from the perspective of its constituent contingents, but as an enterprise of ‘Franks’ more generally, ‘Christians’ or even, ‘we’.2 This Crusade was so remarkable – the only one, as it turned out – in achieving its objective, that songs and stories were soon being written down and then developed in more elaborate written narratives.3 Early narratives include the anonymous Gesta Francorum composed, it is thought, by someone who was in Bohemond’s retinue as far

as Antioch.4 The author of a second text, Peter Tudebode, was a Poitevin.5 A full text of a third early version, the

Peregrinatio Antioche, has recently been discovered.6 A slightly later version was composed at Montecassino.7 Raymond of Aguilers, who was attached to the cathedral of Le Puy, became a chaplain of Count Raymond of Toulouse.8 Fulcher of Chartres was present at the Council of Clermont and travelled with Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders, and Stephen of Blois, but then accompanied Baldwin of Boulogne to Edessa, and so was less well informed about events at Antioch and Jerusalem.9 To these may be added Baudry of Bourgueil, Guibert of Nogent, and Robert the Monk, by far the most popular of the early authors.10 They reflected the need to promote the crusading ideal by reworking the Gesta Francorum.11 In northern France it was also important for the Capetian monarchy to be associated with the Crusade.12 An added incentive in the wake of Bohemond’s marriage to Constance of France and the disastrous end of his crusading career may have been to justify and safeguard his legacy, though the idea that the early revisions of the Gesta Francorum were designed as deliberate

pro-Bohemond

propaganda

has

been

discounted.13 Ralph of Caen’s Gesta Tancredi, as its name indicates, focussed on Tancred but also had much to say about his uncle, Bohemond.14 Albert of Aachen’s History is much the longest of these early accounts, and was independent of the Gesta and accounts based upon it. The

first six books took the History to 1102 and the account was subsequently extended to 1119. It is more detailed and with a focus on Godfrey of Bouillon, the Lotharingians and Germans, and the role ascribed to Peter the Hermit and his followers.15 Then there are the accounts incorporated into the great Anglo-Norman chronicles, especially those of William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, and Orderic Vitalis.16 As noted above, the great abbey of Montecassino soon developed its own narrative, drawing in part on oral memories.17 In the east, the biography by Anna Comnena of her father, the Emperor Alexios, provides a fascinating account of the Crusaders from the perspective of the Byzantine court.18 Last but not least there are the accounts from the Islamic and Jewish worlds.19 As well as narratives, Crusaders’ letters and charters also provide information about those who made donations either before they went or when they came back.20 This wealth of sources thus includes several composed for Norman, Anglo-Norman or south Italian audiences, and the totality reflects the sensational impact the Crusade made on contemporaries and, it is becoming clear, the difficulty of elites controlling its narration.21 The First Crusade continues to attract a considerable volume of research and publication on every aspect: here the focus is on topics which relate directly to the Normans. More narratives are now available in translation and thus

available to a wider audience of those interested in medieval Crusades. Combining charter evidence and (for England) Domesday Book, more can be discovered about those who chose to go, as well as those who could have gone but did not. Gender is one approach which has thrown light on the participants, and on ideas of masculinity embodied in crusading values.22 Work on the earliest narratives has affected perceptions of leading figures such as Bohemond, his character (the ‘flawed hero’), the nature of his leadership and his relations with Emperor Alexios. An examination of how the First Crusade was remembered and memorialized is relevant, particularly for the posthumous reputation of Duke Robert Curthose, and for helping to establish family traditions of crusading.23 Monographs by Thomas Asbridge and Andrew Buck have thrown much needed light on the establishment of the principality of Antioch and of its governance.24 The emergence of the new principalities has been reframed in a longer context of Near Eastern history so that they are not simply seen from the perspective of the Crusades.25 One Crusade author was particularly conscious of the Norman-ness of the south Italians. This was Ralph of Caen, the author of the Gesta Tancredi, who was in no doubt that his subject was a Norman. Little is known about this author beyond his name and his friendship with Arnulf of Chocques,

Duke

Robert’s

chaplain.

Ralph

joined

Bohemond’s entourage in 1106 and switched to that of

Tancred.26 Ralph identified Bohemond as the nephew of Robert Guiscard, who had freed Rome from the German emperor and had conquered territory taken from the Byzantine

emperor.27

At

the

battle

of

Dorylaeum,

Bohemond and Tancred, separated from the other leaders, had been determined to advance the glory of their homeland.28

When

he

wrote

of

the

flight

of

the

Grandmesnil brothers from Antioch it was to report their shame.29 Ralph of Caen was particularly concerned to identify the south Italians as Normans, and he was not alone. Orderic Vitalis, who of all the Anglo-Norman chroniclers was most conscious of the wider Norman world, sometimes wrote of the south Italians as Normans, as, for instance, in 1084 when ‘Normans from Apulia’ sacked Rome.30 Bohemond led ‘Normans and Apulians’ into Macedonia.31 When later Bohemond was captured and imprisoned by the Turks then freed by the princess Melaz, the Christian soldiers she armed and sent against Kilij Arslan uttered the battle cry of the Normans, ‘God help us’.32 Duke Robert of Normandy was one of the princes of northern Europe who, together with men and women of all social ranks, answered the pope’s call for an armed pilgrimage to recover Jerusalem for Christians.33 As well as the desire to liberate Jerusalem in the hope of winning salvation, he had a strong personal reason for wishing to undertake the pilgrimage made earlier by his grandfather

Robert who had died on the journey.34 He left Normandy in September or October 1096, travelling with his uncle Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Gilbert, Bishop of Évreux, and a substantial contingent of knights, chiefly recruited from Normandy.35 Leaving the duchy at this juncture was risky. His brother, William Rufus, had been active in building up support there, and even though the lands of Crusaders were supposed to be protected during their absence, there was no guarantee that Rufus would respect this unless a peace was negotiated.36 Some of the greatest Norman magnates, like Robert de Bellême, William, Count of Mortain, and William, Count of Évreux stayed behind, possibly in part because their presence was needed to maintain security in the duchy.37 Robert de Bellême’s younger brother Philip did go, however, possibly because he had been implicated in a baronial revolt in 1095 and, according

to

the

Worcester

chronicler,

had

been

imprisoned. Absenting himself at this juncture might be a way of heading off further trouble.38 For similar reasons Stephen, Count of Aumale and Ernulf de Hesdin joined.39 There is also the consideration that Robert and his brother Hugh, Earl of Shrewsbury, were needed to administer their extensive estates, whilst a younger son possibly had more freedom. William Meschin, a younger son of Ranulf Vicomte of Bayeux, was in a similar situation. Robert, Count of Meulan, who had recently succeeded to the Beaumont lands in Normandy, did not go. He was by

now quite elderly, having been described as ‘a lad’ at Hastings, and he was acting as a key negotiator between William Rufus and the French king, Philip I, when the Crusade began. His marriage at this time to Elizabeth of Vermandois, daughter of Hugh Count of Vermandois who led a French contingent, was related to negotiations between the two kings.40 No fewer than three members of the Grandmesnil family joined the Crusade: Aubrey, Ivo, who held the family land in England, and William, who had gone to Apulia, married a daughter of Robert Guiscard, and been established in Calabrian estates.41 William de Ferrers, who had inherited his family’s Norman estates, also joined.42 Walter of Saint-Valéry and two of his sons went, as did Rotrou II, Count of Perche.43 Some of those who enlisted held land on both sides of the Channel, such as Gerard de Gournay, son of Hugh, Lord of Gournay-en-Bray in Normandy and of three manors in Essex.44 William de Percy was lord of a northern honour and a benefactor of Whitby Abbey.45 Payn Peverel who went and returned was the brother of William Peverel ‘of Dover’ and Haimo Peverel. How these brothers were related to the other Peverels who occur in late eleventh century England is not precisely clear, but these three seem to have risen in the service of Rufus and Henry I and were possibly members of his military household.46 Payn the Crusader was to receive land in England under Henry I, and founded

a priory at Barnwell just outside Cambridge, where he was remembered as a standard bearer of the duke.47 Historians have sometimes queried why there were not more recruits from Norman England.48 Although English bishops did not hear the pope’s call to arms directly, they were hardly ignorant given the measures needed to raise the huge sum the king loaned to his brother to finance his expedition. It has been pointed out that Archbishop Anselm does not seem to have expressed vocal support, and it is likely that the king did not want to see England stripped of knights. This had been his father’s objection when Odo of Bayeux removed knights from England in 1082.49 There would certainly have been concerns about the security of Northumberland in the aftermath of the revolt of Robert de Mowbray, and the same point could be made about the Welsh border. Possibly a more general consideration was that many of those who had arrived in England in or shortly after 1066 had reached the end of their fighting days, and had either died or retired into religion. The younger generation may have been more concerned to establish themselves, marry and produce sons, than to leave England. This was not always the case: some recruits were clearly young and had only just come into possession of their lands. Another variable may have been the family’s charitable giving. Where much had already been given, individuals may have felt the need for charitable giving had

been fulfilled. Lacking personal papers, much remains speculative. In fact, there was only a handful of high-standing families with sons of an age to participate, but chose not to. One was William II de Warenne, who had inherited his father’s lands in England and Normandy in 1088. He was granted the title and rights of an earl in Surrey.50 His sister Edith went on Crusade with her husband Drogo de Mouchy, but William himself did not enrol.51 Walter II Giffard also chose to remain, although his wife Agnes was a sister of Anselm de Ribemont, an important Crusader.52 Warenne and Giffard were not alone. The most surprising stay-athome was the future Henry I who was in his twenties at the time, unmarried, and a younger son. His career in the 1090s had seen him switching support between his two brothers. The reason presumably was that he was heir presumptive to both Robert and Rufus: if either should die, he wanted to be on the spot. Rufus confirmed him as count of the Cotentin, and in addition he was put in charge of the Bessin, bar the cities of Bayeux and Caen.53 Presumably, then, Robert trusted Henry to keep order in these regions. Robert’s contingent was said to include Englishmen and Bretons as well as Normans.54 The Bretons included Conan, son of Geoffrey of Lamballe, Hervé, son of Dodeman, and Ralph de Gael, who had left England after the revolt of 1075.55 Also with Duke Robert were his brother-in-law, Stephen Count of Blois, his cousin Robert II,

Count of Flanders, and Hugh, Count of Vermandois.56 They travelled across the Alps, via Rome and Montecassino, some to Bari, others to Brindisi or Otranto. Robert of Flanders took ship, but Robert and Stephen stayed in Italy for the winter, joining the other leaders at Constantinople about May 1097. Meanwhile, a second contingent gathered in very different

circumstances.

According

to

the

Gesta

Francorum, Bohemond appeared at Amalfi where his halfbrother Roger Borsa and his uncle Count Roger the Great were besieging the city, and announced his intention to join the Crusade. He had an expensive cloak cut up to form crosses, which he had been told the Crusaders wore, and handed them out to those who joined with him. His recruitment was so successful that the siege had to be abandoned because Count Roger’s army was too depleted to continue.57 Bohemond was a great showman, and some such public call to arms could well have happened. The besieging army was equipped and ready and all he had to do was to hijack it in a higher cause. Geoffrey Malaterra, no fan of Bohemond, thought that the latter’s motives were opportunistic: ‘Bohemond, who had previously invaded Romania in the company of his father, was always looking for ways to subject that region to his authority. Seeing the great multitude hastening there by way of Apulia and realizing that they had no leader, he joined himself to them and sought to make himself the

commander of the army. He then placed the symbol of the expedition – that is, a cross – on his clothes.’58 In other words, like Anna Comnena, he believed Bohemond was less interested in the idea of a pilgrimage than that of territorial gain.59 He had enjoyed some success in the Balkans, only to see these recovered by Emperor Alexios, and he would have been well aware how stretched Byzantine defences were. There is no information about the size of Bohemond’s following, or how it was financed. The Gesta Francorum offered a list, as did Baudry of Bourgueil, repeated and added to by Orderic Vitalis.60 Such lists are themselves testimony

to

descendants

the to

need be

of

those

involved

memorialized.

and

Tancred,

their either

Bohemond’s nephew or his cousin was there, with some other members of the Hauteville family: Hermann of Cannae, a nephew who had been consistently excluded from his inheritance; two other nephews, Richard of the Principate, and Ranulf his brother; Richard, son of Count Ranulf of Caiozzo; Geoffrey of Montescaglioso and his brothers.61 FitzToustan

Vassals and

of

Roger

Humphrey

Borsa

included

FitzRalph.62

Robert

Robert

of

Sourdeval was a vassal of Count Roger the Great.63 Others named were Robert of Anzi, Count of Russignolo and his brothers, Boel of Chartres, and Aubrey of Cagnano.64 The names show that, as in northern Europe, some individuals and families were more strongly attracted to the idea of

crusading than others. Timing and prospects, as well as age, may explain why some went but not others; moreover, some

may

well

have

distrusted

Bohemond

or

were

personally antagonistic to him.65 It is clear that here, as in Normandy and England, the response was selective rather than universal. The Crusaders took different overland routes to reach the Holy Land, but all had to cross the lands of the Byzantine emperor, Alexios Comnenos. Relations between Alexios

and

the

Crusaders

were

to

be

far

from

straightforward, as is reflected in the diametrically opposed views of the sources.66 Anna Comnena obviously wished to justify her father’s actions and to praise his successes, not least by exalting the enemies he faced. Hence her famous pen-portraits of Robert Guiscard and Bohemond were intended in part to show that they were worthy foes. Bohemond’s refusal to hand over Antioch to imperial officers caused heart-searching amongst the other Crusade leaders.

Initially

Bohemond

and

Count

Raymond

of

Toulouse shared possession of the city, but then Bohemond took

it

over

and

refused

to

cede

the

city

despite

commitments made to the emperor.67 Others felt that the emperor

had

broken

his

commitments.68

Hugh

of

Vermandois had been dispatched to the emperor by the Crusade leaders to urge him to take over the city, but Hugh did not return to the crusading army.69 The issue came to the forefront again when Bohemond was in France

recruiting for a campaign which was clearly directed against the emperor.70 Orderic Vitalis, for one, condemned Bohemond’s greed for territorial gains.71 Alexios had initially sent armed forces to the Balkan frontier accompanied by interpreters who persuaded the locals to let the Crusaders pass and to supply them with provisions, whilst shadowing them en route to the capital.72 First to arrive had been a large group of followers of Peter the Hermit, a popular preacher from Amiens.73 Against advice to wait for the noble armies, according to Anna Comnena who obviously wished to exculpate her father for the disaster that followed, they crossed the Bosphorus to north-west Anatolia where, lacking training and weapons, most were massacred by the Turks.74 The arrival of the princes’ contingents at Constantinople presented problems of a different kind. Alexios requested oaths of loyalty from the leaders by which any gains of imperial territory would be handed back.75 This they did, some reluctantly. Most reluctant was Count Raymond, who said he had sworn an oath to God alone, and refused until threatened by Bohemond. Bohemond himself took the oath, an act that became awkward when he later refused to hand back Antioch. Tancred avoided taking the oath at all.76 Tancred and Richard, Count of the Principate, left Constantinople with most of Bohemond’s forces whilst Bohemond himself stayed behind to consult with the emperor about provisions. The Crusaders reached the city

of Nicaea, then the capital of the Seljuk Turks, and proceeded to construct siege engines. However the city did not surrender until a fleet of boats supplied by the emperor approached.77 The Gesta Tancredi stressed the valour of Tancred, and the author included a discussion of Tancred’s resistance to the idea that any gains would be handed over to Alexios.78 Nevertheless, according to Ralph, Tancred did eventually take an oath to the emperor, after which Alexios invited him to request a gift, but when Tancred asked for the emperor’s own personal tent, Alexios angrily refused: ‘he desires nothing other than my palace’. In this account, therefore, the emperor’s behaviour is shown to have been in the wrong.79 Again we need to understand the way this episode was presented as a justification of Tancred’s actions: he tried hard to avoid taking the oath and when he did, the emperor refused a reciprocal gift, thus perhaps, nullifying the oath. After leaving the city for an unknown reason the Crusaders’ forces divided, and almost came to disaster at Dorylaeum. Bohemond, Robert of Normandy, and Tancred had gone ahead ‘as if with one common thought they sought to propagate the unique glory of their fatherland’. In fact Ralph of Caen indicates that there had been differences of view about the division of the army. Some thought that the division made it easier to supply the armies, others that what happened was accidental.80 At any rate, Bohemond and Duke Robert were attacked by Kilij

Arslan, leader of the Seljuk Turks, at the head of a very large army. Fierce hand-to-hand fighting occurred, and at this point Robert made a decisive intervention, according to Ralph of Caen. The duke ‘of the royal blood of William the Conqueror . . . recalled his lineage, uncovered his head and shouted “Normandy” ’. He then shouted to Bohemond that they should fight to the death.81 They were able to hold out until the rest of the crusading army came to their support, thus winning a great victory against superior odds, and resumed their progress towards Antioch.82 Meanwhile, Tancred and Baldwin of Boulogne peeled off from

the

main

army

and

headed

into

the

recently

established Armenian kingdom of Cilicia in south-west Turkey. There has been some discussion about their motives: was it free enterprise, or were they invited by Christian Armenian rulers fearful of the Turks? The Crusaders and Emperor Alexios probably saw this diversion as preparing the foundations for an attack on Antioch by creating a shield to the north. The net result was to place Edessa under the Crusaders’ lordship.83 According to Ralph of Caen, Tancred had only ‘one hundred men with breastplates and two hundred archers’.84 He arrived first at Tarsus and had his banner raised there but Baldwin arrived with a larger force. Clearly a disagreement ensued between the commanders over the status of the city and the division of the spoils. Tancred then proceeded to Mamistra where

the Turks had fled ahead of his advance, took the city and this time kept for himself.85 The next target en route to Antioch was Artah, a few miles away. The Crusaders had been told that the citizens would welcome them, though the Turks had placed a strong garrison there. Robert of Flanders was detailed to go ahead and was admitted into the city, the garrison having been killed by the inhabitants. The Crusaders were soon besieged by the Turks and had to be relieved. According to Ralph

of

Caen,

on

Tancred’s

arrival

the

city

was

recaptured, and handed over to Baldwin of Boulogne. Tancred, laden with booty, re-joined the main force which proceeded to Antioch.86 The Crusaders could not afford to leave the great city of Antioch in enemy hands before proceeding to Jerusalem, but capturing it was going to be a major challenge. Antioch was protected by its formidable walls, by the river Orontes, and by a lake.87 It was situated a few kilometres from the coast where the port of St Symeon at the mouth of the river served the city, which had been held by the Romans, conquered by the Arabs in 638, retaken by the Byzantines in 969 and then captured by the Seljuk Turks in 1085. Its fate was to sour relations between the Crusaders and Emperor

Alexios,

who

believed

that

the

city,

once

recaptured, should be handed over to his representative, Tatikios, who accompanied the Crusaders. The two sieges of Antioch and the Crusaders’ battles first to take the city

and then, having been themselves besieged, to overcome the siege, lasted from October 1097 to the end of June 1098. This is the great set piece of narratives of the First Crusade, more space in the chroniclers’ accounts being allotted to it than to the capture of Jerusalem. The representation of Bohemond’s role in particular has in recent years been studied in some detail.88 It has also been pointed out that he did not lead into battle from the front: he was usually in the second line supervising. When his Muslim ally Firuz let the Crusaders into the city he cried, ‘Where is Bohemond?’ Bohemond was not, as might be expected, at the head of his men.89 He was thus portrayed as a much more ambiguous figure than used to be thought, greedy and sometimes dishonourable. Having crossed the river Orontes at the Iron Bridge, the Crusaders decided to besiege the city. Bohemond and the south Italians were in front of the St Paul’s Gate, Raymond of Toulouse was before the Dog Gate and Godfrey of Bouillon before the Gate of the Duke. The Turks began to harass the Crusaders, who built a bridge of boats over the river to keep communications to St Symeon open. In November

a

Genoese

fleet

arrived

with

provisions.

Bohemond dealt with attackers based at Harim, by employing the ruse of a feigned flight, killing those he captured before the walls of Antioch.90

By December food supplies were running short, and it was probably around this time that Duke Robert was dispatched to the port of Latakia, to keep open supply lines to Cyprus, another imperial possession. According to Ralph of Caen the city was being held by Englishmen, possibly members of the Varangian guard acting on behalf of Emperor Alexios. These men now called on Duke Robert, whom they believed to be loyal to Alexios, and submitted themselves once more to ‘the Norman Yoke’. Accordingly Robert

was

able

to

enter

Latakia

peacefully.

Ralph

commented that the duke spent his time there in slumber and idleness, but he did give out supplies to the needy.91 It is hard to know what to make of this criticism, as his assigned task of keeping supply lines open was an important one.92 Meanwhile, Bohemond and Robert of Flanders went on a foraging expedition with about four hundred knights. They met a relieving army, and managed to beat it off, Robert of Flanders attacking directly, with Bohemond in reserve.93 They returned to the besieging force with few supplies. Unsurprisingly deserters were reported, including the preacher Peter the Hermit who had survived the massacre of many of his followers, and William the Carpenter, Lord of Melun. They were brought back by Tancred in disgrace. William was forced to spend the night on the floor of Bohemond’s

tent

to

be

vilified

by

Bohemond

for

cowardice.94 According to Ralph of Caen, William’s tents

were kept in camp and used as public latrines.95 Alexios’s general Tatikios left the siege, promising to send supplies and to return as soon as possible.96 The Crusaders had news that an army under Ridwan the Seljuk, ruler of Aleppo was on its way to relieve the city’s garrison, and Bohemond urged his fellow soldiers to attack. The forces were drawn up between the river and the lake under Bohemond’s command, and Ridwan’s army fled.97 Supplies and horses which were greatly needed by the besiegers were captured. Bohemond and Count Raymond went to St Symeon to bring up men and materials for the construction

of

a

siege

castle.98

Tancred

meanwhile

captured the castle and monastery of St George in order to cut the city off completely, and he was able to commandeer supplies being brought to the besieged Turks.99 Despite the tightening of the blockade, the city was still holding out, until one of the defenders, Firuz, was persuaded by Bohemond to give access to the three towers he

commanded.

Bohemond

negotiated

with

Firuz,

promising him great wealth if he would let the Crusaders into the city. Emboldened by the success of these talks, Bohemond met the other Crusaders to persuade them that if one of them were to capture the city (that is, himself) he should be allowed to keep it. They replied that all should share it.100 For the author of the Gesta Francorum, then, Bohemond’s desire to seize Antioch and to keep it for himself was out of order.101 This author had also claimed,

contrary to other sources, that the leaders had refused to swear an oath to Alexios at Constantinople.102 In any event, whether they expected to keep the city or not, they did not want Bohemond to claim it for himself. The plan was risky in the extreme but, given the approach of a large army headed by Kerbogha, the atabeg of Mosul loyal to Baghdad, it was agreed that the risk was worth taking. On 3 June about sixty men scaled the walls. The plan worked and the city, though not the citadel, was captured, leaving the streets full of corpses.103 The Crusaders’ success came not a moment too soon, as the next day scouts for the large relief force of Kerbogha arrived. The besiegers were now the besieged. One wellloved Crusader, Roger de Barneville, who had ventured out of the city with only a few men, was killed.104 It was at this point that more desertions occurred, including those of the Normans Aubrey and Ivo de Grandmesnil, a disgrace they were never to live down.105 Stephen, Count of Blois was said to have reached Emperor Alexios, who was heading to Antioch, and persuaded him that the situation was desperate. The emperor accordingly turned back towards Constantinople.106 This seemed to be a further sign to the Crusaders that he did not intend to fulfil his promises of assistance.107 The deserters became known

as

the

‘rope

dancers’

of

Antioch,

and

the

opprobrium that came to be attached to them, and to the earlier desertion of Walter the Carpenter, is a reminder of

the

values

contemporaries

set

on

courage

and

cowardice.108 Within the city things seemed to be going very wrong, when a peasant named Peter Bartholomew came forward to reveal his vision that the Holy Lance which had pierced Jesus’s side at the crucifixion was buried in the main church of Antioch. Count Raymond of Toulouse was persuaded of the Lance’s authenticity, though Bohemond was sceptical.109 By late June the besieged knew that no reinforcements were coming, and it seems they may have tried, unsuccessfully, to negotiate a surrender. If so, their offer was rejected by Kerbogha, and it was obvious they would have to fight or die. On 28 June therefore, the Crusaders broke out of the city and faced Kerbogha’s army. It was a desperate ploy, as the Crusaders were by now short of horses. Many knights had to fight on foot, deployed in front of the cavalry. Bohemond was given overall command. The plan was to engage the Turks near the Bridge Gate, as most of Kerbogha’s army was camped several miles away. Hugh of Vermandois led a charge of archers out of the Bridge Gate. Kerbogha initially hesitated when he heard news of the breakout. The main force of Crusaders marched out in four contingents, one led by Robert of Normandy and Robert of Flanders, a second, of Lotharingians and Germans, led by Godfrey of Bouillon. Adhémar Bishop of Le Puy, the spiritual leader of the Crusade, commanded the southern French as Count

Raymond of Toulouse was ill. Bohemond commanded the reserve in the rear. As well as fighting round the Bridge Gate, there was another hard-fought action to the south as the Turks tried to outflank the Crusaders. Bohemond was attacked but was helped by Godfrey of Bouillon and Hugh of Vermandois. Slowly the tide turned and the Crusaders won an astounding victory against superior numbers.110 After the capture of Antioch, differences between the crusading leaders became more serious. Were they to attack other cities in northern Syria or make haste towards Jerusalem? Bohemond’s intransigence over Antioch put him at odds with Raymond of Toulouse who as the wealthiest leader of the largest contingent thought he deserved overall command of the army.111 At this juncture Adhémar of Le Puy, the pope’s representative, died.112 Before proceeding south Bohemond, Raymond, and Robert of Flanders sacked the city of Ma’arra al Nu’man and then departed, leaving a garrison which ultimately had to resort to cannibalism. Raymond then tried and failed to take the town of Arqa in Lebanon, so he rejoined the main body of the Crusaders which was now advancing at speed towards Jerusalem, though minus Bohemond who stayed behind at Antioch.113 En route, Tancred made a detour to Bethlehem, invited by the local Christians, and placed his standard over the town.114 The Crusaders finally arrived at Jerusalem on 7 June 1099. The city was defended by formidable walls.115

The Fatimid governor, who had expelled the Christians and poisoned the city’s wells, had a sizeable garrison. It was besieged from the north by Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders, Godfrey of Bouillon and Tancred, and from the south by Raymond of Toulouse.116 This time the Crusaders could not support a long siege. They were again in difficulty over supplies of water and wood with which to make siege ladders,

and

themselves

they

about

had who

begun should

to rule

quarrel over

amongst the

city.

Fortunately, Genoese ships arrived at Jaffa with supplies of food. Local Christians advised where wood could be obtained, though according to Ralph of Caen, Tancred happened on some by chance having retreated to a quiet spot suffering from dysentery.117 Duke Robert benefitted from the arrival of a Norman, Hugh Bunel, who had fled the duchy having killed Mabel de Bellême. Moving on from place to place he had been living amongst the Muslims and could thus act as a translator.118 Two siege towers were built, as well as a battering ram, mangonels, and scaling ladders. Count Raymond’s tower, in the south, collapsed, but that of Godfrey of Bouillon in the north reached the city walls and formed a bridge across which the Crusaders swarmed.119 The city fell on 15 July, and was sacked by the Crusaders.120 Ralph of Caen devoted most attention to Tancred’s role in the siege, highlighting his part in the spoliation of the Temple. His men tore down a silver image and distributed

the booty. Arnulf of Chocques, Duke Robert’s chaplain, complained to the Crusade leaders.121 According to Ralph, Arnulf took the opportunity to settle old scores by reciting the shortcomings of Tancred’s father Robert Guiscard: he was said to have thrown a comrade from the walls whilst in the midst of an embrace; that Robert had pretended to be dead,

was

carried

alive

to

Montecassino;

and

had

pretended to make peace with his nephew Tancred only to act coldly towards him.122 Arnulf reminded the council that he (Arnulf) had been with them from the very beginning: he was at Nicaea urging on the besiegers, at Dorylaeum, where he had helped to coordinate the scattered forces, and at Antioch, Ma’arra and Arqa. It was an eloquent speech,

insisting

on

his

tirelessness

in

urging

the

Crusaders onwards. Tancred in response argued that Arnulf had attacked his family, especially Guiscard, ‘second only to Alexander the Great in audacity’. The deeds of Guiscard were known throughout the world. Tancred also claimed that he had distributed the silver to his fighting men, that it had been decided whoever occupied houses in Jerusalem first should keep them, and that he had been the first,

whilst

Arnulf

had

held

back.

Notwithstanding

Tancred’s defence of his action, the Crusade leaders decided that he was to make restitution by giving back seven hundred marks to the temple.123 Next, arrangements had to be made for the governance of the city. The clergy thought that it should not be ruled by

a king. The leaders elected Godfrey of Bouillon as ‘prince of the city’, angering Count Raymond, who left for Jericho.124 Arnulf

of

Chocques

was

chosen

as

Latin

patriarch,

following the death of Adhémar of Le Puy.125 Arnulf announced that he had discovered the True Cross on which Jesus had been crucified in the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Meanwhile news arrived that a Fatimid

army

was

advancing

from

Egypt

to

relieve

Jerusalem, and that the Crusaders would again have to fight for the city. Raymond of Toulouse and Duke Robert were initially sceptical, but joined the others.126 Perhaps some 1200 knights and 9000 infantry faced an army twice as large at Ascalon. The Crusaders launched a surprise attack with Godfrey of Bouillon on the left, Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders and Tancred in the centre, and Raymond on the right. The surprise worked. This was to be Robert of Normandy’s finest hour: he went straight towards the Egyptian vizier al-Afdal and attacked his standard bearer, subsequently purchasing the standard, which he was said to have presented to the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem.127 After the battle the Crusaders found the Fatimid camp full of treasure.128 Soon afterwards Robert of Normandy and most of the other leaders left for home.129 He travelled back via south Italy. There he married the daughter of Geoffrey of Conversano whose dowry was said to be enough to redeem the loan advanced by his brother. His first act on reaching

Normandy was to visit the abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel.130 He did not meet William Rufus again, as William was killed by an arrow whilst hunting in the New Forest. Robert now had to deal with his youngest brother Henry, who had been speedily crowned king. Robert invaded England in 1101, but decided not to fight for the crown, instead accepting a large pension, and an agreement that whoever of the brothers first had a son, that son would be the heir to England and Normandy. He was outmanoeuvred by Henry, who by 1105 was building up support in Normandy. By the autumn of 1106 he was ready to face his brother in battle. Robert used the tactics he had learned in the ‘Jerusalemite wars’, but was defeated and captured, having been abandoned by his chief ally, Robert de Bellême.131 The duke was to remain his brother’s captive for the rest of his life, finally dying in 1134. His son William escaped from his guardian around 1110 and, as many regarded him as the rightful duke of Normandy, was a thorn in Henry’s side for many years, until he died in 1128 of wounds suffered while fighting for control of the county of Flanders. In 1119 he had appeared before King Louis VI of France, from whom Normandy was supposedly held, and asked for his father’s freedom, saying that they would together go beyond the Alps, back to Jerusalem, a request that Henry denied.132 After the Crusaders had left, Bohemond consolidated his hold on Antioch and he probably also held the port of St Symeon, and perhaps Alexandretta and Artah.133 He

attacked Latakia but had to withdraw in favour of the crusading leaders returning from Jerusalem, and was captured in August 1100. Tancred, who took over as regent at Antioch, had to raise the funds for Bohemond’s release, which was achieved in 1103. The forces of Antioch and Edessa were defeated in the following year at the battle of Harran, and soon afterwards Bohemond departed for the west to recruit men and funds necessary to continue the struggle, which was now in the hands of Tancred. Bohemond went first to Italy and then travelled on to France. There are vivid accounts of his personal appearances in 1106, when he justified his own actions and cast Emperor Alexios as the villain. He visited shrines such as that of St Leonard at Noblat, who was venerated for his ability to free prisoners from bondage, where he bestowed great gifts.134 Many were said to have brought their children to him, becoming their godfather and giving his name to them, a delightful insight into the naming practices of the day. He achieved a great coup by his marriage to Constance, daughter of King Philip, in the cathedral at Chartres in the presence of her brother, the future King Louis VI, and Countess Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror.135 Her sister Cecilia was promised to Tancred, and in due course she travelled to Tripoli where the marriage took place.136 For the Capetian king the marriage associated the dynasty

more

closely

with

the

Crusade.

Hugh

of

Vermandois, King Philip’s younger son, had led a small contingent on the First Crusade. When dispatched from Antioch to request help from Emperor Alexios, he had returned to France instead of going on to Jerusalem, attracting censure as a result. He had, however, returned in 1101, and was fatally wounded at the second battle of Heraclea in that year.137 Not all were persuaded by Bohemond’s eloquence. He sent a letter to Henry I requesting permission to cross to England, but the king advised against a winter voyage, saying that he was intending to cross to Normandy at Easter 1106.138 From Henry’s viewpoint his struggle with his brother Robert was at a critical stage. He did not need the distraction of seeing knights from England go on Crusade, though he could not prevent Bohemond from visiting Normandy. In late April Bohemond was at Rouen where he met Archbishop Anselm. Ilger Bigod, Bohemond’s master of horse who had known Anselm for a long time, gave the archbishop hairs belonging to the Virgin Mary.139 It is not clear if Bohemond met Duke Robert at this time; the duke had travelled to England earlier in the year, but could well have returned, and it seems unlikely that the two old comrades would not have met. Perhaps the chroniclers deliberately avoided the topic, as Robert was soon to be defeated and captured by his brother. A feature of Bohemond’s speeches in France was his denigration of Emperor Alexios. With Bohemond was a son

of Romanos IV Diogenes, according to Orderic Vitalis.140 Bohemond openly urged new recruits to come with him to attack the emperor’s lands, promising rich rewards if they did so. Many did follow him, and Orderic named some of the most prominent Normans, including Ralph the Red of Pont-Erchanfray and his brother Walkelin, whose family were neighbours of the abbey of Saint-Evroul.141 He returned to Apulia, gathered men and ships, and proceeded to besiege Dyrrachion. However, the privations of a long siege, coupled with desertions brought Bohemond to terms. At the treaty of Devol he accepted that he was to hold Antioch of the emperor, to restore some of his conquests, and to have a Greek patriarch appointed.142 Bohemond returned to Italy, where he died in 1111. At Canosa di Puglia a mausoleum was built for him whose inscription read ‘pray for Bohemond, that he may have his place in the Kingdom of Heaven’. The later careers of Duke Robert and Bohemond never equalled their achievements as Crusaders, and Robert’s reputation in particular was fatally damaged by his long captivity at the hands of his brother. The myth grew that he had been offered and refused the crown of Jerusalem, which explained why he then subsequently ‘lost’ his duchy.143 It was simply not in Henry I’s interests to see Robert’s achievements celebrated, for there were too many in both England and Normandy who believed Robert or his son William were rightful dukes of Normandy. Orderic

Vitalis, for instance, a supporter of the peace Henry’s rule had brought to his own region of Ouche in southern Normandy, continued to refer to Robert as duke.144 Henry refused to release his brother into the custody of his son William Clito, who had promised they would go to Jerusalem in exile.145 By the later twelfth century there was debate about the conditions of Robert’s life imprisonment. According

to

Roger

of

Howden,

Henry

blinded

his

brother;146 according to Geoffrey of Vigeois, Henry agreed to release his brother on condition he renounce his claim to England and Normandy and leave the realms but Robert had violated the agreement, and was recaptured.147 This story was further elaborated in the thirteenth century, implying that Robert, when released, had plotted against the king. Captured when his horse got stuck in the mud, he was kept a captive for the rest of his life. Matthew Paris added a further embellishment, that the king sent his brother a red robe which did not fit him and which he had torn trying on. When Robert found the tear he despaired of his fate, stopped eating, and died.148 Robert’s heroism was not forgotten. It was recalled in songs and stories of the First Crusade and embellished in the process. At Antioch he was said by William of Malmesbury to have been personally responsible for the death of Kerbogha.149 Geoffrey Gaimar, writing in the 1130s, went even further: Robert was the bravest man in the world, who not only killed Kerbogha but also captured

Jerusalem. He was acknowledged as ruler of Antioch but handed it over to Bohemond. It was he who arranged the distribution of cities, and it was with his permission that Godfrey became King of Jerusalem.150 Wace, in his repackaging of the history of Rollo and the Normans, reported the duke’s courage and his capture of Kerbogha’s standard, adding the detail that the duke gave the banner to the abbey of Holy Trinity, Caen, of which his sister was abbess.151 This feat was pictured in the crusading window at Saint-Denis at Paris.152 In the Chanson d’Antioche, a late twelfth-century text which drew on earlier sources, Robert killed the ‘Red Lion’ emir.153 Bohemond was not forgotten in southern Italy. Luigi Russo has pointed out that in the later twelfth-century

Catalogus Baronum no fewer than nine men named Bohemond occur.154 Yet Russo also draws attention to the lack of commemoration of the feats of the south Italian Normans. At Venosa, for example, the house most closely associated with the Hauteville family, Bohemond was remembered as ‘prince’ without his association with the Crusade being recalled.155 South Italians had never been numerous on the First Crusade; Bohemond’s captivity meant that he was out of the running for the crown of Jerusalem. The marriage of Adelaisia del Vasto to King Baldwin ended in failure, and her repudiation was an affront to her son, Roger II, who turned his attention to north Africa.156

Meanwhile it had been left to Tancred to extend the boundaries of the principality to the north into Cilicia, to the east towards Aleppo, and to the south, towards Latakia.157 In 1101 he recaptured Tarsus, Adana, and Mamistra in Cilicia. In the same year he began a siege of Latakia

which

Bohemond

was

he

successfully

released,

these

captured gains

but, had

when to

be

surrendered.158 Bohemond resumed campaigning, but in 1104 he, together with Tancred and Baldwin of Bourcq, Prince of Edessa, were defeated by the Turks at Harran.159 Baldwin had attacked Harran and called on Bohemond and Tancred for assistance. The leaders of the Turkish army were the governors of Mosul and Mardin who feigned retreat from the city and then turned to fight the pursuing Crusaders, capturing Baldwin and Joscelin of Courtenay. This was a serious defeat for the Franks, as the Byzantines now recaptured Latakia and parts of Cilicia, whilst the city of Artah went over to Ridwan of Aleppo. Tancred’s position at Antioch was vulnerable, so he appealed for help, marched against Ridwan and defeated him. He also took over as regent of Edessa.160 As Tancred was not party to the Treaty of Devol, he did not feel obliged to hand over Antioch to Alexios. He fought on all fronts to keep and to extend the territory under his control. In 1106 he had besieged and taken Apamea, and campaigned in the north to retake Mamistra and later Tarsus. He recaptured Latakia and campaigned eastwards

towards Aleppo, though control of this important centre eluded him. By the time of his death in 1112 the principality covered considerably more ground than under Bohemond, but it was a question of holding cities and strongpoints, making alliances with local rulers, and securing tribute where possible. In other words, conquest here was very different from Italy and England: cities were taken and then recaptured, there were raids and counterraids and alliances were formed and broken.161 Against all the odds, and making every allowance for divided enemies, a polyglot army led by multiple and often antagonistic leaders crossed Europe and achieved the recovery of Jerusalem. Casualties were high, and atrocities were committed, cannibalism at Ma‘arra and indiscriminate slaughter

at

Antioch

and

Jerusalem.

The

Crusaders’

motives were not always high-minded and, whilst they tried to sustain their alliance with the emperor, there were undoubtedly

feelings

that

he

had

not

fulfilled

his

obligations. Bohemond particularly may have always felt entitled to keep what he took, given his earlier efforts in the Balkans. The First Crusade also, for better or worse, laid the foundations for the Latin principalities of Edessa, Antioch, Jerusalem and Tripoli. Of these the Normans were instrumental in the foundation of Antioch, played an important

role

in

the

early

history

of

Edessa

contributed manpower to the kingdom of Jerusalem.162

and

How then do we assess the Normans’ contribution to the Crusade? Essentially it comes down to the qualities of their leaders, their abilities to inspire and retain the loyalty of their followers, their experience of both fighting in the field and siege warfare, and, in the case of the south Italians, their knowledge of the Greek language and of Byzantine politics. They were also able to bring material resources. Duke Robert raised a large loan from his brother William Rufus before setting out.163 Tancred was reported to have had the means to provide the arms, horses and mules for his followers, and he was also evidently good at sharing the spoils of war with his men.164 Each of the three Norman leaders was an outstandingly capable commander. Robert was in his forties at the time, and had been an active warrior for some two decades.165 He had been sent north against the Scots in 1080 and had built a castle at Newcastle to guard the route north to Durham.166 In the following year he took the field against his father at Gerberoy, and actually struck him on the head during the battle.167 In 1088 he besieged and took the castle of Saint-Cénéri and had its castellan blinded.168 With his brother William he had besieged their youngest brother Henry at Mont-Saint-Michel.169 William and Robert then returned to England and travelled north to meet King Malcolm of Scots.170 In 1094 he besieged and took the castle of Houlme, held against him by William Peverel.171 In other words, by the time the duke took the cross he had

experience on the field of battle, in building castles and in siege warfare. There was no doubt about his courage on the First Crusade. He, like the other leaders, commanded his own men. At Dorylaeum he rallied Bohemond’s men, and urged Bohemond to fight to the death.172 As Guibert of Nogent put it, Robert ‘properly mindful of his father’s valour and noble ancestry, performed mighty deeds of arms’.173 At Antioch and Jerusalem he commanded a contingent facing the city walls.174 At Ascalon he distinguished himself by his charge against the centre of the opposition, an incident which entered into the myths about the Crusade.175 The decision to send him to Latakia in 1098 may have been because he knew the English, who seem to have arrived there at some point.176 Even

more

than

Duke

Robert,

Bohemond

was

a

commander par excellence. He was described by Anna Comnena as literally a larger than life character.177 He was born between 1050 and 1058,178 and although christened Mark he was nicknamed Bohemond because of his great size, and the name stuck. In 1081 he was sent to occupy Avlona (Vlöre in Albania).179 There he was joined by his father and together they captured Corfu and proceeded to besiege Dyracchion, where they defeated a large army led by Emperor Alexios himself.180 Further short-term gains were made in the ensuing months but the campaign ultimately failed.181 It is likely that Robert was intending to

carve out a Balkan principality for Bohemond, as Roger Borsa had been declared his father’s heir. At any rate when Robert died, Bohemond was left without an inheritance, but managed to establish himself in certain Apulian and Calabrian

strongholds,

eventually

securing

Otranto,

Taranto, and Bari from his brother.182 Whilst he may not have been able to speak Greek himself, he had an interpreter in his household.183 Bohemond thus had very considerable experience of warfare on land, including sieges, and understood the need for ships. He undoubtedly had charisma in abundance, and made use of it, whether in stage managing his decision to join the Crusade, or on his recruiting tour in France, or on the field of battle. Above all he played a key role at Antioch, at the battle of the Iron Bridge, in persuading Firuz to admit his men, and in the final breakout from the city. As a commander he was evidently able to adapt his tactics to deal with forces that were numerically superior, and he was prepared to take risks, as the assault on Antioch showed. With the count of Flanders he may have gone ahead of the main army and been ambushed at Dorylaeum, but it is not clear whether they had been brave or foolish. Bohemond particularly had first-hand experience of dealing with Emperor Alexios. It was his negotiation of a passage through imperial territory that was said to have delayed his departure from Italy.184 He may well have felt, justifiably, that without a prior arrangement made he would have been

treated as an enemy. According to Guibert of Nogent, forces loyal to the emperor attacked a contingent of Crusaders who had appropriated supplies that local people refused to sell them. Bohemond, who had gone ahead, returned and captured many in the imperial army. When he heard they were only obeying orders, he let them go.185 Bohemond was celebrated as ‘that great warrior’, ‘valiant Bohemond’, ‘brave Bohemond’ and a ‘hero of great stature’.186 Albert of Aachen described him as ‘a Norman by nation, a man of high courage, wonderful talent and every military virtue’.187 Anna Comnena of course saw him rather differently as ‘supreme mischief maker’.188 Whilst the Crusaders were besieging Antioch, he volunteered to go with the count of Flanders to find supplies.189 He was chosen as overall commander of the besieging forces to face the oncoming Turkish army in the first battle190 and was brave in the attack.191 Tancred too was wary of the ‘deceit of the Greeks’, evaded taking the oath at Constantinople, and when he did take it, angered the emperor by asking too much by way of a return gift. Tancred was described as brave as a lion. He was hugely successful in battle at Nicaea, Dorylaeum and Antioch, where he killed seven hundred Turks, and later inflicted

great

losses

on

the

fleeing

army.

Whilst

contemplating Jerusalem he met a hermit who, when he heard Tancred was ‘a Guiscardian’, forgave him the wrongs his uncle had inflicted. Even making allowance for the

author’s

hyperbole,

commander.

Ralph

Tancred of

Caen

clearly was

was

also

a

dashing

impressed

by

Tancred’s care for his men’s welfare: he financed their participation, fed them at his table, as well as sharing out the spoils.192 Maintaining

morale

and

discipline

was

crucial,

especially during lengthy and enervating sieges when food for men and horses was in short supply. Desertions were a problem at Antioch, and we hear of the scorn heaped on William ‘the Carpenter’, Lord of Melun by Bohemond whose

punishment

references

suggest

was

to

personal

humiliate

him.193

information

direct

These from

Tancred, and they are illuminating about a key quality of military leadership – concern for the men’s welfare. Good

fortune

and

robust

good

health

were

also

important. The Normans’ leaders were successful and would thus gain a reputation for being ‘lucky’ commanders whom men would want to follow. There were casualties at every major engagement. Illness and wounds could well be fatal, but each of the three leading Normans managed to survive. Bohemond was said to have been wounded at Antioch, though the context suggests this is offered as an explanation for his failure to take the citadel.194 Tancred had dysentery at the time of the siege of Jerusalem, but still managed to take part in the fighting.195 Raymond of Toulouse, the oldest of the crusading leaders, suffered from illness at Antioch.196

The commanders needed to have a strong and positive relationship with each other as there was no overall commander. Duke Robert was evidently an amenable character. He travelled with his kinsmen, Count Robert of Flanders, his cousin, and Stephen Count of Blois, his brother-in-law. He cooperated with the other leaders at Antioch, Jerusalem, and Dorylaeum. He was among those who

discussed

arrangements

for

the

governance

of

Jerusalem, and acted as a mediator between Count Raymond and Bohemond.197 At Jerusalem it was his chaplain, Arnulf of Chocques, who was elected as the new patriarch.198 He had to be prompted to leave Latakia and rejoin the main crusading army to Jerusalem and after it had been taken he left, not seeking land for himself. He thus remained true to the concept of the expedition as a pilgrimage. In its own terms, the First Crusade had succeeded in recovering Jerusalem for Christians. It had important consequences

in

the

way

Christians

regarded

non-

Christians. The authority of the pope as the only person who could call a Crusade was enhanced. The challenge to Byzantium through the rise of the Seljuks was for a time reduced, while Muslim powers were united in their opposition to the crusading principalities. The north Italian cities of Genoa, Pisa, and Venice thrived on trade with the eastern Mediterranean.

The effects of the Crusade on Normandy, England, and Italy have more rarely been considered. Opinion

in

Normandy must have been divided between pride in the achievements of their duke and his followers, and concern. For Henry I this was all particularly awkward. He had chosen not to go with his brother in 1096, though he was young and unmarried at the time. The names of the leaders, including that of his brother, were reverberating in western Europe after 1100. Henry did not want Bohemond recruiting knights in England, probably for much the same reason as William Rufus had been reluctant to see large numbers of knights leave: the security of the Norman regime in England would have been dangerously exposed. However, by the late 1120s and with the death of William Clito, dynastic politics had moved on. Henry wanted to arrange

a

marriage

between

his

widowed

daughter,

Matilda, and Geoffrey, the son of Count Fulk of Anjou, but he also wanted to ensure that, as arranged, Fulk himself would leave for Jerusalem to marry the widowed queen, Melisende, which he did. The marriage of Matilda and Geoffrey got off to a rocky start but in 1133 Matilda gave birth to a son, Henry, in whom the old king could see, at last, a successor. On both sides of the Channel, the new crusading orders, the Templars and Hospitallers, provided fresh opportunities to support Crusades by endowing the orders with land and property in the west. Henry I was particularly generous to the master of the Templars, who

visited England in 1128.199 Better late to support the Crusades, perhaps, than never. However, how far was there anything ‘Norman’ about their exploits? The other chief Crusaders proved to be courageous in battle. They were all experienced in fighting on horseback, and they worked together during the great sieges of Antioch and Jerusalem. Godfrey de Bouillon, for instance, did not attract as much attention from the chroniclers until 1099 but he clearly was brave and competent.200 Bohemond and Tancred were both out to gain land for themselves but so too was Raymond of Toulouse and Baldwin of Boulogne. Robert Curthose was not interested in acquiring territory or the crown of Jerusalem, but the same was true of Robert II, Count of Flanders. Nothing is known for certain about the number of knights and the money the leaders brought with them, but it is thought that Count Raymond was the richest of the leaders as well as the most senior. What Bohemond did bring, of course, was first-hand knowledge of Alexios Comnenos and the Byzantine Empire.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE NORMANS AND POWER

T power.

HE STORY OF THE NORMAN 1

However

intervention,

conquests begins with coercive

their

whether

apologists

as

justified

assistance

armed

requested

by

beleaguered Italian cities, the right of succession to the English throne or the recovery of Antioch from the Saracens, the use of force, direct or implicit, was the mainspring. They would not have succeeded without able leadership, the ability to command loyalty, and ruthlessness in pursuit of one’s ends. We saw in Chapter One above how chroniclers consistently represented Norman leaders as superb

warriors.

leadership

were

Coercive thus

the

power

and

mainsprings

charismatic of

Norman

achievement, but it is important to know whether they used an exceptional degree of force.2 When they moved on from banditry to more permanent and organized exploitation, power was to be exercised within contemporary norms governing social relations, of hierarchy, lordship, rulership, and kingship, but these were broadly defined and not unchanging. The nature of lordship in particular has been debated, both in terms of relations between lords and peasants, and between lords and their military followers.3 sometimes

used

New

the

lords

taking

opportunity

to

over impose

by

force

heavier

exactions on peasants, but the weight of lordship, and the obligations of peasants varied considerably. The idea that

Norman lords took feudalism, the grant of land in return for military service, to Italy, England, and Antioch, has been challenged. England particularly has been described as a feudal kingdom.4 The issue of continuity and change in English society has been debated for centuries, but more recently the heat has gone out of the argument with greater understanding of tenth- and eleventh-century Norman and English society, and an awareness of the way obligations of fief holders came to be more precisely defined in the twelfth century.5 Finally, the political framework within which power was exercised needs to be considered, the titles assumed by the Normans, the characteristics of their rule and their contribution to the development of medieval states. The argument that the direct exercise of power should be identified with wider ideals

about

governance

or

state-building

has

been

challenged by Thomas Bisson.6 Normans and Warfare The Normans above all were successful in war. Fighting as heavily armed cavalry, they had mastered the art of the cavalry charge by 1053 in the battle of Civitate (see above, p. 73). At Hastings, too, they fought on horseback, though it is not clear if the cavalry were the decisive element in their victory.7 Cavalry charges were only appropriate in certain circumstances, and critical to victory in fewer still.8 War was more commonly conducted through sieges, and here Robert Guiscard and Count Roger excelled, in

southern Italy and the Balkans.9 Naval operations were particularly important here too. Ships had either to be hired or built for transport, as in the Channel crossing in 1066, or for sieges and naval engagements, as at Bari and Dyrrachion, or for capturing islands in the Mediterranean. The importance traditionally accorded to their skill as cavalrymen has until recently obscured their mastery of naval warfare.10 Robert Guiscard and his brother Roger, William the Conqueror, Bohemond and Tancred had all the qualities of successful

warriors:

personal

courage,

tenacity,

ruthlessness and guile. It was essential in this era for commanders to be at the head of their men, leading them personally into the thick of the battle, as William the Conqueror did at Hastings, or as Tancred habitually did, according to Ralph of Caen.11 Count Roger was another commander who was said to lead from the front.12 Thus the occasions in the Gesta Francorum when Bohemond was not in the front line are all the more interesting.13 All had the charisma necessary to gain the confidence of their men, Bohemond most of all. Size, temperament, character and personality all came into play. According to William of Malmesbury the king was a big man who became fat in later life.14 Robert Guiscard according to Anna Comnena was very tall with a fine physique and a loud voice, but was also grasping and mean.15 Robert was nicknamed ‘Guiscard’, the wily one, for the ruses which

enabled him to snatch victories against the odds, like the time he organized a fake funeral cortege to gain access to a town, or when he used his superior strength to pull an enemy, whom he had arranged to meet alone, from his horse.16 Bohemond was a chip off the old block, also exceptionally tall with a fine physique, fair-skinned and blue-eyed,

brave,

arrogant

and

cunning,

possibly

so

presented by Anna Comnena to ensure that he was seen as a worthy opponent of her father.17 Robert II, Duke of Normandy, on the other hand, was of less than medium height with short legs, nicknamed ‘fat legs’ or ‘short pants’.18 The leader’s courage was not the only factor in success. Accurate intelligence was also important, as John Prestwich argued in the case of William the Conqueror.19 Scouts were used to convey information about the enemy’s forces.20 The power

of

persuasion

might

also

be

crucial,

most

importantly when Bohemond struck up a friendship with Firuz, who commanded a section of the wall at Antioch, and was persuaded to admit the Crusaders.21 Success brought new recruits. If the numbers Normans commanded were initially modest, they soon grew. Robert Guiscard at an early date recruited Slavs resident in southern Italy.22 Count Roger’s forces included many Saracens.23 Lords had to be able to promise their men the spoils of victory and then follow through on their promises; according to Geoffrey Malaterra, Count Roger was notably

generous to his men.24 He probably had to be: otherwise they would desert. Food, water, horses, and wood were crucial to armies, whether they were on the move or besieging a strongpoint. William the Conqueror’s achievement in 1066 assembling a great army with weapons and ships is illustrated on the Bayeux Tapestry and has been underlined by Bernard Bachrach’s study of the logistics of transport and troop movements on the Hastings campaign.25 The numbers of men and women in the various contingents on the First Crusade

presented

severe

challenges.

Although

the

Byzantine Emperor Alexios Comnenos instructed that supplies be made available for the Crusaders to purchase, friction was reported.26 The four major sieges of the First Crusade – Nicaea, Antioch (twice), and Jerusalem – were extremely taxing from the point of view of logistics. At Nicaea it was only when Bohemond arrived that the Crusaders

had

sufficient

supplies.27

When

the

army

reached Antioch in October 1097 they initially found supplies but by Christmas food was running low.28 When, in turn, the Crusaders were besieged they suffered acute shortages.29 There were further hardships at Jerusalem.30 In Italy the situation in which the Normans found themselves was complex, and as young men Robert Guiscard and Roger had to gain experience of warfare, ravaging the countryside round strongpoints to terrorize the inhabitants into surrender or, failing that, besieging

towns and cities.31 If the Hautevilles had arrived in Italy without much experience of large-scale sieges, they were nevertheless

successful

when

they

were

attempted.

Robert’s sieges of both Bari and Palermo involved naval blockades.32 Bohemond’s experience in the 1080s fighting Byzantine troops was to be invaluable preparation for the Crusade. Captives were blinded, killed, sent into slavery, or relocated.33 Cities were sacked, most destructively Antioch and Jerusalem. In England whole areas of the north were subjected to harrying, so that peasants took refuge in flight.34 King William imprisoned Morcar for life without charge, and executed Earl Waltheof.35 The Normans, wrote Orderic, ‘mercilessly slaughtered the native people like the scourge of God smiting them for their sins’.36 William Rufus had one rebel hanged, and another blinded and castrated.37 Women were subjected to sexual violence (see below, p. 181). What is hard to judge is how far the Normans transgressed contemporary norms about violence and, if they did, whether it mattered. Violence in medieval Europe, its forms, victims and commentators have been a lively research field in recent years. Killing or mutilating one’s enemies had not been uncommon in the early Middle Ages. Social status came into play: those who killed high-status men suffered more severe penalties than those for the murder of peasants or slaves. Enslavement of Christians

was condemned by the church and the oppression of monks and clergy, or the weak and powerless, was equally censured. Certainly

contemporaries

denounced

the

Normans’

actions. In their early years in southern Italy they were regarded as bandits, ‘savage tyrants and plunderers’.38 It was because of their actions that Pope Leo IX decided to try to root them out.39 His biographer described the Normans’ ‘extreme savagery and fury’, and called them a ‘most evil nation’.40 Benzo Bishop of Alba went even further, writing that they were better described not as Normans, Normanni, but No-men, Nullimanni, ‘stinking filth of the world’ (fetidissima scilicet stercora mundi).41 They were not alone in being apostrophized as villains: Amatus too was severe in his descriptions of Pandulf IV of Capua and Gisulf II of Salerno. For this chronicler, the story of the Normans in the south was one of their evolution from brigands to benefactors. By the time he was writing, their leaders, Richard of Capua and Robert Guiscard, had massively enriched Montecassino. They were key players in the

complex

and

shifting

relations

between

Abbot

Desiderius and Pope Gregory VII.42 Roger II came to take an increasingly tough approach in Apulia as he fought to assert his authority there. For one author, Falco of Benevento, Roger was a cruel tyrant.43 Alexander of Telese, on the other hand, saw Roger’s ‘royal terror’ as a dimension of his efforts to ensure peace and

justice. In other words, this was not simply force majeure but flowed from a conception of political culture which placed a premium on royal authority against that of noble power which had been antithetic to order.44 The

bloodshed

in

England

following

the

Norman

invasion was certainly a matter for comment. It was later recalled by Pope Gregory VII, for instance, who claimed that he had been greatly criticized for his seeming support for a venture which had led to so much bloodshed.45 Orderic Vitalis did not hold back about the immorality of the

conquest,

and

commented

specifically

in

three

passages. First, there was the speech he put into the mouth of Guitmund, a monk who refused preferment in England because it represented the ‘spoils of robbery’. Second, there was the devastation caused by King William’s harrying of northern England in the winter of 1069–70 which drove the peasants into destitution and famine. Third, there was the execution of Earl Waltheof for his involvement in the revolt of 1075. By the early twelfth century Waltheof was being venerated as a saint at Crowland Abbey where Orderic was a visitor.46 For Orderic, however, it was possible both to accept the legitimacy of King William’s claim to the throne and to condemn the consequences of its success. The stories woven around the exploits of Hereward ‘the Wake’ included his homecoming from Flanders after 1066 when he found his brother’s decapitated head over the gate of his home at Bourne. This

may have been invented detail, but it was clearly thought to be credible.47 The Conqueror’s most recent biographer, David Bates, has discussed the question of William’s behaviour and, even in what might be regarded as a violent age, whether he went too far.48 One famous instance was his mutilation of the garrison at Alençon during the siege of the castle between 1049 and 1051 when the defenders mocked his ancestry by bashing hides against the walls in reference to his maternal grandfather, a tanner.49 The stories that the Conqueror had some of his enemies poisoned were clearly thought credible by those who reported them.50 The distinction between instilling respect and fear was a fine one. The Conqueror was feared, as was his youngest son, Henry I, whereas Duke Robert and King Stephen were not, and this was to be held against them.51 On the First Crusade the Normans were involved in a number

of

violent

episodes.

At

Ma’arat

Bohemond

promised that a group of prisoners would be safe if they took refuge in a palace, only to kill some, enslave others, and take their possessions. The garrison were then reduced to cannibalism to stave off starvation.52 At Jerusalem, men and women took refuge on the roof of the Temple under the protection of the banners of Tancred and a certain Gaston of Bearn, only to be massacred or to commit suicide by flinging themselves off the roof.53 Ralph of Caen in particular celebrated Tancred’s slaughter of the enemy,

especially when Jerusalem was taken. Pools of blood were a mark of prowess rather than shame.54 Eleventh-century conflicts, and in particular Crusades, caused debate at the time and have continued to do so ever since, about the justification for war. There has been discussion about the rise of a code of chivalric behaviour, of norms governing context, conduct, and the justification of violence.55 It has recently been argued that such ideas were already widely disseminated in lay society by 1100, that they crystallized further in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and eventually became a code of behaviour not just

for

the

aristocracy

but

for

European

society

generally.56 More specifically the Norman Conquest of England has been seen as ushering in a change of behaviour. After the first few years the Normans punished aristocratic rebels not by death or mutilation but by expropriation. The Conquest, it was suggested, ushered in an age of chivalry, a turning away from the savage warfare of early medieval Britain. Over time the Normans in England came to conform to these new ideas, albeit they were slower to take hold in Wales, Scotland, and Ireland.57 It is hard to claim that chivalric ideas, at least insofar as they involved ransoming rather than killing or maiming noble prisoners, took hold very quickly in Norman England. William Rufus had William of Eu, one of the rebels of 1095, blinded and castrated and William de Alderi, his steward, hanged, whilst other prisoners were taken to London and

mutilated.58 Henry I was believed, rightly or wrongly, to have blinded his cousin William Count of Mortain, who died in prison.59 In the aftermath of the Norman revolt of 1124 Henry ordered the blinding of three noble prisoners.60 These were perhaps isolated instances, and they involved the king rather than nobles, but they evidently made such an impression on contemporaries that they were recorded. The Normans in Italy and in Britain in the eleventh century were not notably chivalrous towards their defeated enemies, Christian or Muslim, killing or enslaving them. The battles of the First Crusade were reported in a different context, that of an armed expedition called by the papacy against pagans for the recovery of Jerusalem. The wholesale slaughter that occurred was reported in terms of victory rather than atrocity and Ralph of Caen, in particular, celebrated Tancred’s feats. It could be argued that by 1100 chivalric ideals had made little impact on the way the Normans were waging war, and that their successes by land and sea were achieved by doing whatever they saw as necessary. New Lords, New Lordship? As the Normans established themselves as lords in Italy, Britain and then the Near East, the question necessarily arises: how much else changed, apart from the people in charge? The new lords could have moved into existing manorial estates and have exacted similar rents and services, albeit heavier. The extent to which the existing

landed elite was displaced, the siting of successor estate centres and the way they were organized varied from region to region and country to country. The available evidence differs in the degree of detail and geographical distribution, and in the different regions there have been different foci of investigation, methodologies and historiographical traditions. In Italy one theme has been that of incastellamento, the enclosure by lords of village settlements, which has seemed to some to parallel if not to replicate the setting up of autonomous lordships in much of France in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries.61 In England the unrivalled detail provided by Domesday Book has been used to assess the management of estates and the impact of new lords on the peasantry, their legal status, and the rents and services owed to the lord. There is no comparable level of detail surviving in the case of Antioch or indeed anywhere else in Europe at that date. A pioneering multidisciplinary study of the coastal regions of Syria in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries has demonstrated that, as might be expected, there were civilian populations at Antioch, Tripoli, and other castle sites. One feature of coastal regions was small towers and where the land there was fertile, cereals, fruit, and sugar cane were grown with vines. Whether the wine was produced for the Franks or for the Christians living there before the Crusades is unclear.62

In the different regions of southern Italy the existing social framework and patterns of settlement varied, as did the impact of new lords. In the Abruzzi, power had already been falling into the hands of local lords, so the Norman incomers were simply a different set of faces in local power struggles.63 In Lombard regions and the Tyrrhenian principalities local lords had established compact lordships with rights of jurisdiction and many remained in situ.64 In the cities of Naples, Gaeta, Salerno, and Amalfi the appointment of Norman rulers seems to have brought little change.65 Some villages were enclosed, but others (casalia) remained open: it obviously depended on the likelihood of attack.66 In southern Calabria there were large estates, especially those held by Count Roger himself, with unfree peasants.67 In Sicily much of the west and centre of the island was retained in direct control by Count Roger, and when grants were made, they included the peasants on whom residence was now enforced. Muslims as well as nonMuslims were now taxed. Over time the lot of the peasants deteriorated as lords sought to increase their dues and services, and many migrated or left the island.68 Slavery, both on the mainland and in Sicily, continued.69 A comprehensive picture of slavery is elusive, but it is clear that whilst slaves were exported from Italy to Iberia or to Egypt, others remained in both Muslim and Christian households.70

The situation in England was different because of the numbers

of

new

lords,

mainly

Norman,

and

the

completeness of their takeover, replacing and restructuring the whole top layer of old English society.71 All land, whether held by laymen or churches, was now deemed to be held of the king. There was overall continuous possession of land by churches, though rearguard actions were fought to recover land from predatory incomers, but the reshaping of lay lordships was dramatic, especially in areas such as Yorkshire which had suffered from William’s harrying in 1069–70.72 Settlement patterns and relations between lords and peasants also varied.73 In eastern England, for instance, many peasants were legally free and paid rent. In a great swathe of the country there were nucleated villages with peasants providing labour service, and there were still many slaves.74 It is clear from Domesday Book that many lords chose to lease out most of their estates, and that the sums being exacted (‘farms’) had in many cases increased since 1066.75 Overall the economic situation and legal position of the peasants deteriorated. Over time many lost their free legal status, and if slavery as such disappeared, old slaves became new serfs, tied to the land.76 It has been argued recently that 1066 was an important turning point in the fortunes of the English peasantry. The new lords, used to different customs, were able to establish new and more

oppressive

terms

and

conditions

on

their

peasant

workforce. Domesday Book itself may have assisted in this process, as it recorded estates, settlements, and obligations from the perspective of the new lords.77 Many lords took control of hundreds, so that all those who lived within their boundaries became subject to lords, thus replacing the preConquest

obligations

based

on

personal

ties

(commendation), landlord–tenant relations, or jurisdictional rights (soke).78 Undoubtedly in the conflicts of the eleventh century peasants came off badly. The difficulty is assessing how far new Norman lords were responsible for any

general longer-term deterioration in the legal position or social situation of peasants. The relationship between climate, land use, the political context and the scope for action by peasants and lords was infinitely varied.79 So far the discussion has been about lords, peasants and settlements, but lordship was much wider than relations with peasants: it was a relationship in which knights entered freely, offering service, loyalty and counsel in return for wages or land. It is the latter, the grant of a fief,

feodum, which has been seen as the characteristic of lordship in this era and which determined the basis of relations between the Normans and their followers. The mutual expectations of lords and their men were not as yet precisely defined. Grants were personal, often made in return for service in the past rather than in expectation of future service, and not always or even often recorded in

writing

in

the

form

of

a

charter.

The

Normans

unsurprisingly made grants of land according to the social norms they knew, but in the eleventh century the terms and conditions were often still fluid. A drive for greater precision came from the demands of rulers recruiting armies and castle garrisons, and concerned to ensure the financial obligations of fief-holders were paid. Swords into Ploughshares: Normans as Rulers For conquest or takeover to be made permanent, the Normans had to control the levers of power. In England they took over an established kingdom with – for the date – relatively highly agencies. In southern Italy and Antioch new political entities were created from scratch, in very different contexts. The independence of the principality of Antioch was to be relatively short-lived, but the kingdom of Sicily, though a new creation, survived and in the later twelfth century both it and the kingdom of England impressed contemporaries by their wealth and power. It has indeed been suggested that England and Sicily were states, albeit not states of the modern variety.80 A general definition of a state might include some kind of central authority claiming autonomous power over a recognized territory, responsible for peace and the defence of the realm if necessary by raising an army, capable of raising funds, employing officials and, possibly, having a capital city.81 There has been further discussion: if they were states, of what kind? By the twelfth century the great

men were deemed to hold their lands of the king, but was the whole constitution of the three polities built on that relationship? How appropriate is the description ‘feudal kingdoms’?82 Conquerors, in a sense, have little need to embark on root and branch reform of agencies of governance: it is enough to take them over and make innovations as needed. In the case of England, debate has focussed on the extent of change and also on its character. For some, the Normans ran a sophisticated old English state into the ground, so that after the civil war of Stephen’s reign there was a necessary reboot which aggregated power to the king. Others have argued that whilst the old English kingdom was highly developed, it took the dynamic Normans to make it work properly (see below, pp. 158–9). In southern Italy the focus has been on the admixture of races and religions and the glittering court culture under the Norman kings which lacked any real parallel in northern Europe. In all three theatres relations between the ruler and the nobility are understood to be central and are usually described as feudal, but what did this mean in the eleventh century and how far did it transform the existing social structure? Norman leaders claimed titles for themselves which were transmitted in their written acts, and by the images on their seals and coins. Documents were often drawn up by the beneficiaries rather than the ruler’s scribe or notary,

so there was variation in the way the ruler was described, providing insight into their aspirations. There was also variety in the titles being used. There were two emperors and, in the Islamic world, the caliph. In northern Europe titles such as ‘king’, ‘prince’, ‘duke’, ‘count’, and ‘baron’ were used. In eleventh-century England the title ‘earl’ had replaced the older ‘ealdorman’.83 Welsh and Scottish rulers were kings, but over time Welsh rulers began to call themselves princes, whereas the Scots were to retain their status as kings.84 In southern Italy some of the more powerful Lombard rulers called themselves princes, as did Bohemond at Antioch and Tancred at Galilee.85 The title of

dux or duke was used both in the Byzantine empire and in the west. In the east the dux was a military commander. It was the title conferred by the Emperor Alexios on Bohemond by the Treaty of Devol.86 In Italy the rulers of, for instance, Gaeta and Naples, called themselves dukes.87 In southern Italy there was a range of options for the legitimization

of

Norman

rule.

One

possibility

was

confirmation by the western emperor. In 1038 Conrad II invested the Lombard Guaimar IV of Salerno with Capua, and the Norman Rainulf with Aversa.88 In 1046 his successor

Henry

III

deprived

Guaimar

and

invested

Rainulf’s son Rainulf II and Drogo de Hauteville with their lands.89 According to Amatus the Normans, tiring of unsatisfactory arrangements with their leaders, elected William of Hauteville as count, but he then received the

title from Guaimar of Salerno, who also recognized Rainulf as Count of Aversa.90 Guaimar also invested those who were allotted land in the subsequent distribution.91 Here and in other early changes, Amatus was trying to show the new titles were legitimately conferred by the Lombard prince.92 The story had to change when Guaimar was murdered, and Pope Leo IX decided to try to drive out the Normans altogether, duly assembling a coalition army. Amatus accordingly called into play St Matthew himself, who appeared in a dream to John, Archbishop of Salerno, where the saint’s relics rested, saying that the pope’s men would be defeated: ‘This land was given to the Normans by God. Because of the perversity of those who held it and the relationships which they have made with the Normans, the just will of God has conveyed the land to them.’93 Further changes came when Robert Guiscard began to call himself duke, which Amatus dated after Robert’s successes in Calabria. He ‘left none whom he did not place under his power’ except Richard, Count of Aversa, and Richard too ‘rose to the rank of prince’ when he secured Capua.94 Amatus thus represents the titles of the Hautevilles and the lords of Capua as initially conferred by the princes of Salerno, and says that their increasing power was reflected in their assumption of the title of duke or prince. The Norman victory at Civitate marked the beginning of a shift in relations with the papacy. The popes did not claim

the kind of temporal authority exercised by the two emperors over southern Italy, but reform-minded popes like Leo IX, concerned about decay and disorder in the south, wanted to take action. Victor II (1055–57), after an initial peace became hostile, and his successor, Stephen IX (1057– 58), ‘plotted to destroy the Normans’, ‘borrowing’ the treasure of Montecassino as a means to this end.95 In retrospect, the election of Nicholas II marked a turning point in papal–Norman relations.96 Emperor Henry III had died leaving a young son under the regency of his mother. When Pope Stephen died, the Romans elected the bishop of Velletri as Pope Benedict X, but five cardinals, returning from Germany, declared the election illegal and, with

the

consent

of

Henry

IV,

elected

Nicholas

II.

Hildebrand, the future Gregory VII, went to Richard of Capua, swore fidelity to Nicholas and was invested by him with the principality. Richard then sent a force of three hundred to assist with the siege of Galeria Antica, where Benedict X was based. Robert Guiscard similarly swore fidelity at Melfi.97 The politics of the situation are clear: Nicholas needed the military muscle of the Normans onside to defeat his enemies.98 At Melfi Robert was styled ‘by the grace of God and St Peter, Duke of Apulia and Calabria, and, with the help of both, future lord of Sicily’.99 In his few surviving charters Robert was described as ‘Duke of Apulia and Calabria’, and around 1079–80 there are charters using the long title

‘Duke of the Normans, Salernitans, Amalfitans, Sorrentini, Apulians, Calabrians, Sicilians’.100 His brother Roger I was consistently described as count and, possibly, ‘great count’ from 1092.101 Roger Borsa, Guiscard’s son, was unable to succeed to the whole of his father’s lands, but he was invested as Duke of Apulia by Urban II in 1089, and was succeeded by his son William.102 Meanwhile his cousin Roger II came of age in 1112 and in a charter issued that year he is styled, ‘now knight, now count of Sicily and Calabria’.103 After a tense standoff Pope Honorius invested Roger as Duke of Apulia, Calabria and Sicily.104 The contested papal election in February 1130 following Honorius’s death gave Roger an opportunity to aim higher. One party of cardinals, made up chiefly of the younger and non-Italian members, elected Gregory of Sant’Angelo (Innocent II), whilst the older cardinals and those from southern Italy elected Peter Pierleone (Anacletus II). In September Anacletus, who at the time was in a relatively strong position, issued a papal privilege recognizing Roger as king.105 Roger, so the bull said, was worthy of the hereditary title of King of Sicily, Calabria and Apulia, as he both had greater wisdom and power than the other princes, and his father and mother had each done great service to the papacy. Sicily was to be the capital of the kingdom. He was to be anointed and crowned by archbishops of his choice, to have authority over the princes of Capua plus the

principality of Naples, and to have aid from the men of Benevento. Roger in return was to pay an annual tribute. The terms of the privilege not only justified the grant of a hereditary royal title, it added territories, and no specific mention was made of an oath of allegiance, though this was perhaps implied by the payment of tribute.106 The terms used in the privilege are significant: Roger was deemed worthy of promotion to a crown. Alexander of Telese, who wrote in 1135 or 1136 at the request of Roger’s sister, saw Roger as God’s instrument bringing peace to Italy, advising him to model himself on King David and the Emperor Constantine.107 Conscious of the novelty of the situation, he wrote that those close to Roger urged him that he ought to have the title of king, and that Palermo, which was once believed to have had kings, should be the capital. Accordingly a council was convened at Salerno to examine the evidence and it was decided that Roger should be promoted at Palermo since he not only held Sicily, his hereditary patrimony, but also Calabria, Apulia, and other lands which he had obtained not only by arms but also by his close relationship to preceding dukes.108 The different justifications are laid out here: the kingdom was not a new one, but an old one restored. Roger was urged by his counsellors to assume the title, rather than receiving it as a papal grant, and no specific mention was made of homage. Roger was crowned on Christmas Day 1130 at Palermo, according to the Romano-German

ordo for the coronation of an emperor, albeit with minor adjustments. Roger was anointed, and received the regalia and, finally, a crown.109 The reference to Palermo as the capital of the kingdom both in the privilege and in Alexander of Telese’s chronicle was clearly breaking new ground (see below, p. 212). Palermo housed the royal palace where the king was often in residence. There was a core of permanent officials, the cathedral, and the city was the most important on the island. In northern Europe, where rulers were habitually itinerant and travelled with their courts, there were no capital cities as such, though there were centres which were frequently visited. In England, London, or at least London and its suburb at Westminster, was beginning to take on this role. From the reign of Æthelred London, by far the most important city in the country, had been central to royal power. Its mint had produced a sizeable proportion of the coinage needed for the war effort. The cathedral church of St Paul’s housed canons who could serve the court if needed. The royal residence at Westminster was retained and was provided with a large stone hall by William Rufus. At Westminster by the later twelfth century the exchequer and the bench of justices met. It was therefore beginning to fulfil similar functions to Palermo, the difference being that the king and court were absent for most of the time.110 Antioch was indubitably the chief city of the principality, the seat of the prince and his court,

and of the patriarch. How far there was a centre of government in the absence of the court is unclear. Possession of Antioch had been contested for centuries by the time the Crusaders arrived. Part of the eastern empire, it was conquered by the Rashidun caliphate, and reconquered in the tenth century by the Byzantines, who placed the city under a dux. It was conquered by the Seljuk Turks in 1084 and placed under a governor, Yaghi Sivan. He was at odds with the Seljuk governor of Aleppo, Ridwan. The two had settled their differences shortly before the arrival of the Crusaders, but Antioch was also seen as belonging to the Fatimid caliphs based at Cairo. From the perspective of Alexios Comnenos, Antioch was an imperial possession which, if conquered, should be restored to his officers.111 In two early charters Bohemond called himself simply ‘son of Robert Guiscard Duke of Apulia’ and in the second simply ‘Bohemond’, but at some stage he began to call himself ‘prince’.112 When Bohemond was captured by the Seljuks, Tancred, who had for a time been ‘prince of Galilee’, took over as regent, allegedly at the request of a delegation from the city.113 He did not contribute to the ransom for Bohemond’s release, nor to that of Baldwin of Edessa, for whose principality he also acted as regent in 1104.114 In other words, Tancred evidently wanted an independent role. Like Bohemond, Tancred married a princess of France. Tancred continued as regent of Antioch, and as such agreed to

terms in the Treaty of Devol of 1108. These were described at great length by Anna Comnena: the oath of allegiance which Bohemond had sworn in 1097 having been broken, was set aside. Bohemond took a new oath of allegiance and promised to provide the emperor with military support. He agreed to receive named lands and cities from the emperor, including Antioch, but only for life, and not outright. He further agreed that the patriarch should be Greek not Latin, was granted permission to return home and the title of sebastos.115 After Bohemond’s final departure, Tancred continued to rule until his death in 1112. He began to call himself Prince of Antioch, even if he was technically only regent for Bohemond’s infant son, the later Bohemond II.116 In 1111 Tancred summoned all his vassals with their knights to Antioch, presumably to strengthen his overlordship.117 Tancred’s successor, Roger, issued a charter in which he was styled ‘Roger Prince of Antioch by the grace of God’, and there survives a coin showing St George killing the dragon with the inscription ΡΟΤΖΕΡ ΠΡΙΓΡΚΙΠΟΣ (Roger prince).118 However, not everyone regarded him as the legitimate ruler as Bohemond I had died leaving a young son.119 When Roger died at the battle of the Field of Blood in 1119 he left no son, and this opened up the possibility of intervention by the King of Jerusalem.120 As well as the young son Bohemond II, Roger II of Sicily had a claim

through the treaty made in 1113 when his mother Adelaisia had married Baldwin I of Jerusalem.121 Bohemond II arrived in Antioch in 1126 and married Alice, daughter of Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem. He was killed four years later

leaving

a

young

daughter

Constance,

whose

guardianship was assumed by Fulk, King of Jerusalem, and whose marriage was thus of crucial political importance.122 In the event she married Raymond of Poitiers, son of the duke of Aquitaine,123 but he died leaving Constance with four young children, of whom Bohemond III was only five years old. She then chose to marry Renaud of Châtillon, a younger son from Burgundy who had stayed in the Near East after the Second Crusade.124 On each occasion after the death of Tancred, therefore, the succession had been less than straightforward. Dynastic

insecurity

was

a

frequent feature of medieval politics, but there were added dangers in the crusading principalities if a competent adult male was not in charge. When William the Conqueror was crowned King of the English on Christmas Day 1066, he was in a very different situation, assuming the title of a long-established kingdom as the legitimate successor of Edward the Confessor. It was a moot point whether he had become king on 5 January, the day of Edward’s death, or 14 October, the day of his victory at Hastings and, as George Garnett demonstrated, it was the former date that was used, thus invalidating the reign and acts of Harold Godwinson.125 The styles used in

documents issued after 1066 varied, as many were composed directly by the beneficiaries. In the old English writs he was simply ‘king’, and when the language changed to Latin he was ‘king of the English’. In solemn charters for England there was more variety; in two there was a reference to the right of the king to rule over the whole of Britain, and often a reference to God’s grace was made. In charters for Normandy the title of ‘count’ is used much less commonly, being succeeded by ‘duke’ or ‘prince’. More have the double title, royal and ducal, than do not, and some, notably from the two Caen abbeys, refer to his rule over England, Normandy, and Maine.126 The style of titles used to describe rulers in the address clauses of charters provides insights, not only into the titles they claimed but also their authority. In southern Italy the new rulers took over Byzantine traditions where the introductory clauses or arengae offered an opportunity for statements about the grantor. Initially phrases about heavenly rewards for gifts to the church and the ruler as protector of the church were included.127 Walter Ullmann pointed out that arengae were strongly influenced by Roman law concepts. In one charter, for instance, Roger II stated that as the assistant of God he was to provide a rector for the church of Santa Maria in Militello.128 In another he referred to his imperium.129 In England many of the Latin diplomas issued in the name of William the Conqueror were drawn up by the beneficiaries and

sometimes included statements about divine grace, for instance a diploma of 1068 in which he was ‘I William, by the disposition of God and by the legacy of blood, basileus of the English, duke and ruler of the Normans’.130 Seals also provided a visual statement of role and power. They were a way of authenticating and closing documents so they could not be tampered with, and had been widely used in the ancient world and the early Middle Ages. As a source of evidence, the materials used, and the visual images and legends chosen all illustrate power, personality, prestige, and cultural interaction.131 Matrices sometimes incorporated classical intaglios. Lead, wax, or, occasionally, gold might be used. Emperors, kings, bishops, lords, and cities all had seals; they were used in the Arab world and in Byzantine Italy, and so it is not surprising that the Normans took up the practice.132 Byzantine seals were often lead, gold being reserved for specially important documents.133 As dukes of Apulia, the lead seals of Robert Guiscard, Roger Borsa, and William had images of Christ, the Virgin, St Peter and St Matthew.134 The surviving impression of Roger II’s seal attached to a document of 1144 shows him on the obverse robed as a Byzantine emperor with an inscription in Greek, ‘Roger the powerful and pious king’. On the reverse is an image of Christ and a Latin inscription ‘Roger by the grace of God, King of Sicily, Calabria and Apulia’.135 Again the message is clear: Roger was a monarch equal in status to the emperor.

Other Normans in the south used seals too. Count Roger’s seal bore an image of the Virgin and Child on one side and, on the other, the legend ‘Lord protect Roger, Count of Calabria and Sicily, help of the Christians’.136 Roger was thus deliberately associating himself with Christ and the Virgin. Jordan of Capua (ruled 1078–91) had a seal with the city on the obverse and the legend ‘beautiful Capua’ and on the reverse a half figure of a warrior armed with what looks like a mace and the legend ‘Jordan, prince by the grace of God’. Bohemond is known to have had a seal modelled on that of a previous governor of Bari, before he departed from Italy on Crusade.137 The surviving impression of his first seal has an image of St Peter on the obverse.138 His seal as prince of Antioch shows him significantly on the obverse as a mounted knight, while on the

reverse

are

saints

Peter

and

Paul,

both

saints

associated with the city.139 His widow Constance’s seal had an image of herself and her two sons, with the legend

Constantia.140 Edward the Confessor had used a double-sided seal attached to charters and writs, showing the king seated in majesty.141 William’s seal, of which only six impressions survive, was also double-sided, with the king in majesty on one side. On the other a mounted knight, armed with a sword and a lance, with the legend, ‘With this seal recognize William, patron (patronus) of the Normans; as with this you acknowledge him as king of the English’.142

The title ‘patron’ is interesting, and the intention may have been to liken the king to the warrior saint, George. It occurred also in the address clause of two charters for the abbey of Fécamp.143 William Rufus’s seal showed him in majesty wearing a cloak fastened on the right shoulder on one side, and on the reverse side as a knight with a mail hauberk, a conical helmet, a kite-shaped shield and a lance with three streamers and the same legend ‘By God’s grace King of the English’ on both sides.144 Henry I had four seals, the legend of three of which referred to the king only as rex Anglorum. On the third seal his orb is shown topped by a bird, perhaps the dove of peace. The most important change came with the fourth seal, which probably came into use in about 1115 where on the side where he was shown mounted as a knight he was referred to as dux

Normannorum, reflecting the fact that his son William had been recognized publicly as his heir both in the kingdom and the duchy.145 For kings a figure wearing royal regalia was thus most appropriate; for lords an equestrian seal was popular. There were other possibilities: Count Roger chose to call on the Deity, whilst Bohemond looked to St Peter, and Jordan of Capua to the city of Capua itself. Coins are another source of evidence, sharing some of the features of seals such as information about image, title, and cultural interactions. In other respects they differ, most obviously in their functions and the much greater number of people who saw and used them.146 The situation

inherited by the Normans in southern Italy and Sicily was particularly complex, with a variety of local coinages in both gold and copper. The new lords continued to use gold coins, tari, minted in imitation of Arabic coins, and Byzantine copper follari.147 Credibility was particularly important for coinage, and in many instances new issues replicated their predecessors as a change might be opposed. In 1123 the duke of Gaeta wished to put his image on a new issue of copper coins, only to be resisted by the citizens who wanted the coins to stay the same as they were.148 At Salerno where the city had previously used Byzantine copper coins, Prince Gisulf (ruled 1052–77) had begun to mint his own. Having captured the city in 1077, Robert Guiscard issued his own coins, one issue of which had an image of himself on one side crowned with a sceptre and orb and on the other an image of the city with the legend ‘victory’, a particularly unsubtle assertion of power, but an image of the city also made a statement about civic identity.149 It paralleled Jordan of Capua’s choice of the image of Capua for his seal. In contrast Count Roger, brother of Guiscard, issued coins at Mileto and Messina in Calabria, and at Palermo in Sicily with the legend ‘Roger count’ around a knight on horseback, with the legend ‘Mary mother of God’ on the reverse, thus using the equestrian symbol which was becoming very common on lordly seals, with a religious motto. Roger Borsa’s coins

minted at Salerno also played the religious card. His seals had an image of the duke, or of Christ or St Matthew and a legend ‘Roger, by the grace of God, Duke of Salerno’.150 The copper coinage of his son William showed the duke as a mounted knight, and on the reverse was an image of St Peter, ‘Blessed Peter’.151 An early coin of Robert Guiscard from Palermo had a Kufic inscription with the date and the legend ‘By the Order of Robert the Duke very glorious Lord of Sicily’. Roger II had coins issued in both gold and copper until in 1140 there was a major reform of the coinage. The king issued a ‘terrible edict’ about the coinage: those called

romesinae (possibly coins of Rouen) were withdrawn and replaced with copper follari, and new coins, a silver ducat and a third of a ducat, were introduced. On one side Christ was shown holding a Gospel book with the legend ‘Jesus Christ reigns for ever’ and on the reverse Roger II crowned and richly dressed, with his son, also named Roger.152 English kings had a monopoly of minting silver coins, which were of a very high silver content.153 On one side was the king’s head with his name, on the other a stylized design with the name of the moneyer. They were based in towns, and worked by converting silver brought in to coins of the latest design. Although coin hoards show that people kept different issues, certain payments to the king had to be made in the most recent issue. In 2019 a very large hoard of over 2,500 coins was discovered in the Chew

Valley

in

Somerset

which

included

some

of

Harold

Godwinson, some of William the Conqueror and three ‘mules’ struck from dies of two issues from different reigns, Edward the Confessor and William, and Harold Godwinson and William, suggesting that the moneyer was hedging his bets and perhaps trying to avoid paying for new dies.154 The coins issued by the Norman kings did not differ dramatically

in

design

from

those

of

their

English

predecessors. The abbreviated legend of the first two Norman rulers was ‘William King of the English’. The way the kings are depicted varied: sometimes the head faced left, sometimes right or full face. Sometimes he held a sword, sometimes a sceptre. Stars occur on some coin types, possibly derived from the coins of German kings.155 The princes of Antioch also issued coins in their own names imitating the form of Byzantine copper coins. Bohemond’s had an image of St Peter, the patron saint of Antioch, on one side and in Greek O ΠΕΤΡΟΣ (O Peter), and on the other a cross with the letters B H M T (short for Bohemond).156

One

of

Bohemond’s

has

the

legend

‘Bohemond servant of Christ’ and, on one issue of Tancred’s, ‘O Lord, aid thy servant Tancred’.157 Two issues of Tancred had images of St Peter, and one of Christ. The second issue has an image of a bearded figure with either a turban or a halo – there has been much discussion on this point. Under Roger of Salerno different types were struck. On some the language of the legend switched to Latin, and

he called himself ‘prince’. The images were once again those of Christ, St Peter, and now also St George and the Dragon, one of the earliest representations on a medieval coin.158 Thus the Normans, having made military gains, had to insert themselves into existing political structures and seek legitimation. For the Normans in the south, this was first of all by deferring to the princes of Salerno, then accepting papal overlordship, and finally by gaining recognition of royal authority from the anti-pope. In England King William was able to claim straightforwardly that he was heir to the throne, and therefore to the rights and prerogatives of King Edward the Confessor. Bohemond’s claim to autonomy at Antioch had to be asserted against Crusaders’ promises to restore

the

city

to

Emperor

Alexios.

In

each

case

propaganda was crucial. Robert Guiscard and his family could claim legitimacy from the reform papacy and both he and Richard, Prince of Capua were portrayed as generous sons of the church, and specifically as benefactors of Montecassino. The Conqueror’s case was put forward by Norman chroniclers William of Jumièges and William of Poitiers, and in the Bayeux Tapestry. Bohemond’s role in the

First

Crusade

was

developed

subsequently;

contemporaries were divided about the legitimacy of his seizure of Antioch, and Anna Comnena was unsurprisingly hostile.

Moreover, it will have become apparent that dynastic politics were inevitably subject to insecurity and challenge. This was obvious in all three theatres, in the failure of adult male heirs in southern Italy and Antioch, and in challenges to the succession in England following the death of William the Conqueror, culminating in civil war between 1135 and 1154. The transition of power from one ruler to another was always a precarious moment when nobles were freer to pursue their own interests. Seals and coins are particularly illuminating about the messages these rulers wished to convey. The fragility and impermanence of the prince’s position depended also on his relationship with the other powerful elements in society, especially the lay nobility. The situation in England was obviously different from Italy and Antioch inasmuch as William became a king, under whom all lords, lay and ecclesiastical, were henceforth deemed to hold their land, as tenants-in-chief, tenentes in capite as they are called in Domesday Book.159 The earls held certain estates by right of their offices; they were military leaders, they sat in the shire courts and they had financial responsibilities.160 Initially under the Conqueror Edwin and Morcar survived not having been at Hastings, but after the death of Edwin, the capture and imprisonment of Morcar and, in 1076, the execution of Waltheof, the day of the old English earls was over. A few men held the title of comes

which, though translated into English as ‘earl’, was closer to the Norman ‘count’. The king was both king and lord, and had rights over the lands of his tenants-in-chief: over succession to land, marriage, wardship, ‘aid’ and ‘scutage’ or shield money. Obligations to provide military service and to pay geld lay on the land and could be assessed according to fiefs rather than, as before, through shires and their subdivisions. Quotas

of

service

were

imposed

on

both

lay

and

ecclesiastical tenants-in-chief.161 The implications of this changed relationship took several generations to work out. In the short term it meant that those who had been granted land could lose it: confiscation rather than death was the usual penalty for disloyalty. In

southern

Italy

the

Hautevilles

superimposed

themselves over a patchwork of principalities, towns, and counties. Many Lombard lords remained in place and here, as in the Tyrrhenian cities, the idea of grants of land in return for service was known.162 In Byzantine Apulia in contrast, where Byzantine administration was still in place at the time of the Normans’ arrival, a local militia was raised. There were different Norman families, and new counties were created, apparently without reference to the duke. Although Robert Guiscard tried to insist that others held their lands from him by virtue of the pope’s grant, there was continuing resistance to the idea. When William I of Apulia died, the pope was unwilling to recognize Roger II

as his successor and for many the Hautevilles’ overarching authority seemed unjustified. Roger II, bolstered by the wealth of Sicily, began to suppress revolt more brutally, and reorganized the counties, suppressing some and appointing supporters to others.163 Sicily was different as here a great deal of the island had been kept under the king’s direct control and although some fiefs were granted, there were no counts. By the time Roger ordered an inquest of military service, in about 1150, the idea of a social hierarchy beneath the king, and with it that of an obligation to military service, had come much closer to being realized. The obligations of fief-holding were both military and financial in a way that is hard to disentangle. Both Roger II of Sicily and Henry II of England held inquests into military service.164 Roger’s was probably prompted by the threat of an imminent Byzantine invasion and, it has been suggested, was

intended

to

provide

information

about

military

capability.165 Henry wanted a record of how many tenants by knight service there actually were, rather than the assessed quotas, for the purposes of taking an aid, and also of enfeoffments made since the death of his grandfather in 1135. Both inquests reflect the onward march of recordkeeping. Nevertheless, rulers expected their nobles to provide personal service: this, after all, was the rationale of the military class. Finally, political society in Antioch was organized round the prince and his nobles, who received their land from

him. Only the lords of Marash began to call themselves counts.166 Those who held land were expected to provide military service, and in this sense it is possible to speak of a feudal nobility, but the most recent analyses of the history of the principality have stressed that the relationship between the prince and the lords was flexible, and less precisely defined than that in the kingdom of Jerusalem.167 In Antioch, then, although the language of feudalism shaped political relations, it is important not to overstate its influence. In southern Italy, too, a similar point may be made: until 1140 the Hautevilles found it hard to assert a superior lordship over all the principalities, counties, lordships and cities and when Roger II imposed his authority on his kingdom, the emphasis was on his sovereign power. Various clauses of the Assizes of Ariano, legal enactments by the new king, drew on Roman law and they did so in a way that emphasized royal authority. His relations with the church particularly

drew

the

accusation

of

tyranny

from

ecclesiastical commentators.168 In England the universality of a new language about land

tenure

between

the

undoubtedly crown

and

impacted

political

aristocracy.

Land

relations law

was

transformed. England after 1066, it has been argued, became a feudal kingdom.169 Historians will continue to debate how much difference this made in terms of military obligation, and there are undoubted continuities. In the

context of consultation and participation in political society, in particular, the Norman kings continued to proclaim their adherence to the law of King Edward and to summon councils of laymen and ecclesiastics to discuss matters of moment. The terminology changed from the witan of the Anglo-Saxon kings to the council of the Normans, but it is hard to discern a radical change in function.170 Frontiers In the eleventh century political boundaries inevitably shifted as neighbouring polities jostled for power and new ones came into being. Frontiers could be linear and also zonal. Locals had to adapt to changing circumstances, making

alliances

with

their

cross-border

neighbours,

possibly experiencing heightened military activity and the building of castles, or a degree of independence from central authority.171

Leonie

Hicks

has

discussed

the

characteristics of Norman frontiers with these ideas in mind.172 What is immediately apparent is the fluidity of frontiers

in

southern

Italy,

as

Normans

moved

into

whatever regions they could.173 Sicily, the Aeolian islands, Malta and Gozo came next, then lands east of the Adriatic and, in the twelfth century, in north Africa. So, too, Antioch was to be the base for a territorial principality, the boundaries of which waxed and waned according to military success. England, too, had open frontiers to the west and the north. The Normans moved into Welsh territory relatively early. Their advances ground to a halt,

to be resumed as and when the opportunity presented itself.

In

the

north-east

the

Normans

established

themselves at Bamburgh, whilst Durham was in the hands of its bishop. In the north-west William Rufus took over Cumberland

and

Westmorland,

founding

a

castle

at

Carlisle.174 So frontiers were perhaps more fluid, even in England, than we might imagine. A key feature of all these states was the ability to maintain law and administer justice. The central Middle Ages were to be a crucial period in the development of these aspects of states, and there were many rulers and many laws. Only two could claim universality. First, there was the law of the Roman Empire which had survived in Byzantium and parts of Italy. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there was a revival of interest, especially at Bologna, following the reception of a manuscript of the Emperor Justinian’s Digest.175 The period was also one when efforts were being made to collect and codify the laws of the church, reaching a high point with the text put together by Gratian in 1140.176 This, together with the rules known as decretals made by popes, became the standard law of the church.177 Secular law varied, as each people, territory, or city had its own customs, administered in local courts, and there were inevitably difficulties in persuading men to appear before courts and to carry out court decisions. Levels of violence were high and in the tenth century bishops took a

leading role in trying to limit conflict by means of the Peace of God movement which had originated in France.178 Gradually the idea spread: it had been introduced in Normandy in the time of William the Conqueror,179 and later in southern Italy popes proclaimed the Peace of God twice at Troia, in 1115 and 1120. On the latter occasion Pope Calixtus II received fealty and homage not only from the duke but also from Counts Robert of Loritello, Jordan of Ariano, and Rainulf of Caiozzo.180 By 1129 Roger II felt confident enough in his own authority, having faced down opposition, to proclaim his peace at Melfi. All the magnates swore to keep peace amongst themselves, that they would not shelter those who robbed or plundered, would produce malefactors before the duke’s court, and would maintain peace towards the church, peasants, pilgrims, travellers and merchants.181 In England royal justice was already vigorous in 1066, as kings already claimed sole jurisdiction over the most serious offences, and their shire-reeves provided an agency through which royal authority could penetrate into the provinces.182 The king also had a ‘peace’ which applied to churches and churchmen and, over time, to different social groups and it was probably for this reason that the Peace of God was not formally introduced. According to the twelfthcentury text purporting to be the laws of Edward the Confessor, the Conqueror summoned an assembly in the fourth year of his reign and all swore that the church

should be in peace and liberty at fixed times during the year.183 Whilst this text is apocryphal, it is likely that by the time of the Conquest the idea had been accepted that essentially the king was the guarantor of peace, and this idea lay behind the reference in the earliest royal charter of liberties, that of Henry I, to the ‘firm peace throughout his realm’ granted by the king.184 Such a generally worded grant did not sweep away ideas of more specific ‘peaces’, but they gradually became less important.185 The idea that medieval rulers should maintain peace and uphold laws was general and evolving. The distinction between offences against society (crime), and against the individual was drawn differently from today, and the further distinction between crime and sin was often hard to make. Over centuries the state came to assume direction of the suppression and punishment of crime, and it is therefore important to explore the extent to which Normans as rulers in the eleventh and twelfth centuries intervened in the mechanisms by which crime was punished. The question is posed, but cannot be answered here: the evidence, from codes of law, charters and narratives, is diverse in character, uneven in survival and not straightforward to interpret. English kings issued laws, Roger II issued the Assizes of Ariano, and in Antioch a text known as the ‘Assizes of Antioch’ survives. Such texts, discussed here below (pp. 193–5) are not, nor were intended to be,

comprehensive in the sense of legislative codes. Here the central issue is not law but the ruler’s role in justice. There is very little information about the administration of justice in the Norman principality of Antioch. Different communities lived under their own laws, but the Normans did introduce their own procedures, like that of trial by battle or the ordeal of cold water.186 In southern Italy there were many courts and many lords, and the responsibility for dealing with serious offences rested with counts, unless they delegated it to others. Roger II sought to follow up a proclamation of peace by action against offenders, and he did this by appointing justiciars, literally men who could exercise justice.187 The Norman kings of England likewise used justiciars to supplement the king’s own court, the framework of public courts of shire and hundred, courts of lords, towns, and, increasingly, of the church. The situation in the century following the conquest was evolving in every aspect: how offences were regarded, how they were brought to court, to which court and how they were dealt with. Pre-Conquest kings had already taken an active role in dealing with crime which

their

Norman

successors

continued

and

even

extended by, for instance, the application of forest laws. The methods of bringing suspects to court through personal or community indictment was supplemented by ex

officio

prosecution,

and

methods

of

proof

by

the

introduction of trial by battle.188 Rigorous enforcement of

justice under Henry I, the ‘lion of justice’,189 could not be sustained in the conflict which followed his death, during which period church courts began to stake out their own sphere of operations, leading to a famous clash between Henry II and his archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. In Norman England, then, the king maintained and even extended his role in law and justice. Resources The ultimate test of the Normans as rulers was their control of resources and the levers of power. In southern Italy and Sicily the Hautevilles became extremely wealthy. Graham Loud drew attention to the riches which the first generations were able to bestow on the church, a great deal by way of booty.190 As rulers, they retained vast estates under their direct control especially in Calabria and western Sicily. They also established tolls on a variety of products which proved to be highly lucrative.191 On the mainland it was their position as overlords which enabled them to secure contributions from the lords, especially the ‘aids’ in commutation of military service.192 There was no direct taxation in the southern region, but in Sicily they took over the levies exacted by their Muslim predecessors, specifically a land tax (kharāj) and a head tax (jizya), formerly taken only from non-Muslims, now extended to the Muslims as well.193 The rulers of Antioch were in a different situation. During the First Crusade and afterwards, much may have

come from booty. On occasion, as we have seen, it was possible to raise a tax as Tancred did in 1105. In general, though, little can be discovered about the ruler’s income. Andrew Buck suggests that the prince drew his revenue from his lands and from a variety of taxes, but points out that much would depend on the military situation.194 The Norman kings of England were much richer than their English predecessors. King William was immensely rich in lands, having taken over not only those of King Edward and King Harold, but also those of all the Godwin family. In addition, the Normans had the profits of justice and jurisdiction, and a monopoly of silver coinage, from which they benefitted financially. They levied land taxes, or gelds; these had originated in the levies raised to fight off the Danes from the later tenth century, either by paying tribute or, between 1016 and 1051, as an annual tax to support the army (heregeld).195 They also expected military service from their tenants-in-chief, and used knights’ fees as the basis for payment in lieu of that service (scutage) and also for calculating financial ‘aid’. This was a kingdom where, as we have seen, those who received land were expected to provide service, but cash was also central to the raising of armies and for the costs of war.196 It therefore does not fit neatly into a category of states where war was financed by taking land and giving it out to one’s followers, or states where war was financed by taxation. Royal

finance

was

a

mix

of

elements

deployed

as

circumstances warranted, and throughout the medieval centuries consent was needed for non-customary levies.197 William the Conqueror was said to have levied geld as early as 1066, though nothing is known about how widely the geld was collected then or subsequently until the famous triple geld which he levied in 1084, as a Danish invasion threatened.198 In 1086 there was an inquiry into the geld levy, followed by the Domesday Inquest, which showed that many old royal estates had never been assessed, whilst others had reduced assessments, or had been exempted on the directly managed parts of those estates they held personally.199 It has been suggested that there was a plan to reassess the units of taxation, but by the time we next have detailed information, from the 1130 pipe roll (audit of sheriffs’ accounts), the number of taxable units, or hides, in most counties were much as they had been in the reign of King Edward.200 In the later eleventh and early twelfth centuries the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle continued to refer to taxes as gelds. They were not mentioned every year and when they were it was often in the plural, for instance, ‘manifold gelds’. The term ‘danegeld’ occurs in royal writs and charters, becoming more frequent in the reign of Henry I.201 In the 1130 pipe roll it occurs as an annual levy of two shillings on the hide. There were other levies, notably aids from towns and cities. There were also references to aids from knights, taken from knights of a bishopric when a new bishop was

appointed, and from the lordship of Carmarthen, possibly dating to the time Walter of Gloucester died, around 1126.202 When Henry II succeeded to the throne in 1154 he found royal finances in a parlous state, and experimented with different kinds of levies, including fines for forest offences which were bitterly resented.203 When he tried to take an annual tax on hides previously levied as sheriffs’ aid, he was opposed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, and had to drop the scheme.204 The most lucrative form of taxation was to be aid taken on movable property, first for the Crusade and, by John’s reign, for war. Aids needed consent, and from the councils called to give that consent evolved the medieval parliament. Records and Bureaucracy One of the features which has most impressed historians about the twelfth-century kingdoms of England and Sicily in particular was the growing volume of documents and increasing

numbers

of

officials

involved.205

Michael

Clanchy coined the phrase ‘From Memory to Written Record’ to trace the transition to writing from memory in England,

and

the

accompanying

rise

in

literacy.206

Numeracy as well as literacy was increasingly valued. As well as prowess on the battlefield there were more and more opportunities for men to rise by offering other kinds of service. As the papal court became increasingly important as an appeal court, clerics who were expert in its procedure and in the law of the church were particularly

valued by princes and by ecclesiastics. Others were specialists in, for instance, drawing up documents, as scribes or notaries.207 In northern Europe scribes were usually clerics; in southern Italy notaries may well have been laymen. In an entirely different area of expertise were those responsible for the organization of the royal hunt. Clerics were of continuing importance. Not only were they expected to be literate but they could be rewarded with ecclesiastical preferment, whereas laymen had to be provided for with land and perhaps titles. In the kingdom of Sicily eunuchs played a key role. It is thought they were probably immigrants from north Africa trained in the palace and converted, notionally at least, to Christianity. Uniquely dependent on the king, they were the most loyal of

agents,

though

unsurprisingly

distrusted

by

the

nobles.208 Such men were able to rise far beyond their social origins in wealth and status, and were so important to rulers that they were known as familiares, their familiars.209 The political importance of such men by 1200 is clear enough. The issue here is how far this development had gone a century earlier. Many of the documents issued by the Hautevilles down to the death of Roger II have not survived in the original, but it seems that on the mainland diplomas were issued in both Latin and Greek, whereas Greek was more common for documents issued in Sicily. In particular, the order issued in 1144 for an inquest into documentation of grants

may have led to a late surge in the issue of documents in Greek. In the late twelfth century, however, Latin came to the fore, together with texts in Arabic, notably details of estate boundaries (divisa) and lists of villeins (jarida).210 The use of Arabic, it has been suggested, marked a deliberate break with the Greek past. It was instituted instead by George of Antioch, drawing on the practices of Fatimid Egypt.211 Notaries recorded their names on Latin texts, so it can be seen that there were only a handful and they tended to serve for long periods. Under Roger II it seems there was initially only one for the Latin documents, then three.212 Maio of Bari was in charge from 1144, rising to vicechancellor then chancellor and finally ‘emir of emirs’, the king’s chief minister. Maio became a hated figure. His concentration on mainland affairs led to a neglect of the situation to the south, in north Africa. He was blamed particularly for the surrender of Mahdia to the Almohads in 1160. Under William I, his brother Stephen was appointed as captain in Apulia and his brother-in-law was seneschal, but became so unpopular that he was murdered in Palermo in 1160.213 By 1156 there was a high court staffed by master justiciars. The three great regions of the southern kingdom each came to be administrative divisions, Apulia and Calabria each having master chamberlains over justiciars and baiuli or bailiffs. Sicily was administered by the diwan,

a panel of officers concerned with the royal estates, whose responsibilities by the later twelfth century seem to have extended to the mainland. Overall was a leading minister, the ‘emir of emirs’.214 Under Roger’s widow, Countess Adelaisia, the chief minister was Christodoulos, who was of Greek extraction, and who died in 1131. He was in charge of recruiting a navy which in 1123 made an unsuccessful expedition against Mahdia in north Africa and he was the head of the council of state.215 He was succeeded by George of Antioch, a Greek Christian whose family had moved from Antioch to north Africa. George took a leading role in the subjugation of Apulia and Calabria for Roger II. Subsequently he captured Tripoli, giving Roger a foothold in north Africa, and in 1147 he captured Corfu, sacked Athens, the Ionian islands, Thebes, and Corinth. In 1149 he took a fleet as far as Constantinople, though he was unable to land. He is thought to have reorganized the royal court, setting up the diwan, an office of land administration modelled on Fatimid Egypt and staffed by Arabic-speaking officials.216 The diwan kept records of estates, accounts, and lists of serfs. Initially it seems to have been concerned only with the island of Sicily, but by 1174 a duana baronum had comparable responsibilities on the mainland.217 The development of specialized and bureaucratized financial departments producing documents in three languages has thus particularly impressed historians as an example of state-building.218 What is clear is that much was owed to

the

legacy

of

Byzantine

administration

both

on

the

mainland and on the island, where it had fed into preNorman governance. The step-change came under Roger II with the setting up of the diwan and the increasing number of documents issued in Arabic. The English kingdom had relatively highly developed royal government in 1066, at least in the midlands and the south. The king’s writing office was headed by Regenbald, chancellor of Edward the Confessor.219 Solemn charters continued to be issued in Latin, and writs in English, but the latter soon came to be issued in Latin also. Many charters were drawn up by the beneficiaries: there was no requirement that they be produced by a royal scribe. The numbers of scribes who were needed for royal writs was very small and it is therefore hardly appropriate to write of a chancery existing as a government department.220 However, documentation was becoming crucial to the transfer of land, providing as it did a permanent record of rights conveyed. The most remarkable product of the growing number of documents was Domesday Book, written in Latin by scribes whose first language may well have been French and were receiving information given in English.221 The number of documents and royal scribes increased, and by the eleven-twenties annual rolls, the pipe rolls, recording royal revenues paid at the exchequer, were being drawn up.222

For a brief period after 1066 sheriffs who were English continued to be used, but then the office was mainly filled by Normans.223 In specialist areas such as coining and the royal hunt it may have been possible for Englishmen to keep their offices for longer.224 Royal justices were based in the localities but by 1130 they were on circuit in the regions. Often justices, usually laymen, were either local magnates or royal servants who might also be sheriffs or castellans, and their legal knowledge was learned ‘on the job’. By the 1120s men who were familiares were being appointed to the office, and were also acting as royal justices. These were the kind of men identified by Orderic Vitalis as the new men of Henry I, whom he raised ‘above earls and castellans’.225 Men could now make spectacular careers in royal administration. An early instance was the career of Ranulf Flambard, the son of a priest. He entered the service of Maurice, chancellor of William the Conqueror, under whom he was responsible for keeping the royal seal. By the time of the Domesday Inquest, in which he may have had a hand, he had already been accumulating preferment. He became Rufus’s chief minister, his exactor and placitator, the man who knew how to get the funds to pay for Rufus’s knights either by exactions or by impleading those who could pay. He was promoted to the bishopric of Durham and,

though

never

a

central

figure

in

Henry

I’s

administration, he turned his abilities to good use in north-

east England by establishing knights’ fees, building castles and pushing ahead with the building of his cathedral.226 Already in the late eleventh century there was an inner group of ministers overseeing administrative matters and distinct from the king’s court. By the early twelfth century – certainly by 1110 when the first reference to it occurs – there was a court called the exchequer, which presided over an annual audit of the sheriffs’ accounts. Its name came from the checked cloth covering a table round which the members of the court sat in order to work out the sums owing and paid. Roman numerals were still in use so using the squares on the cloth with the principles of an abacus was the easiest way to calculate what, if anything, was still owing when all due allowances were made. The exchequer originally met at Winchester, but at some stage moved to Westminster, where it usually remained.227 In Henry I’s reign Roger, Bishop of Salisbury presided at the exchequer as is recounted by his grandson. The bishop, Henry’s chief minister, oversaw royal finance and justice, became immensely wealthy in the process and secured preferment for members of his family. He was the king’s chief justiciar and, during at least one period of the king’s absence in Normandy, he was viceroy.228 Thus in both northern and southern kingdoms there were parallel trends in increasing specialization and documentation in royal justice and finance with a concomitant need for men to service these developments. A handful of royal servants in

the twelfth century could be described as bureaucrats, and they

were

beginning

to

attract

the

attention

of

contemporaries. They were ‘new men’ in terms of their social origins, and the value set on their services by kings gave them enviable access as his ‘familiars’. Their success was precarious: in Sicily the influence of Maio of Bari attracted mortal enmity and he was murdered in 1160.229 In Henry I’s reign the chamberlain Geoffrey de Clinton was accused of treason and fell from grace.230 In 1139 it was the turn of the great bishop of Salisbury and his two nephews, both bishops to be arrested. Bishop Roger never recovered and died a broken man.231 Rulers and Armed Force Max Weber identified one of the characteristics of a state as the monopoly of legitimate violence.232 In the eleventh century there was a great deal of violence as we have seen and from one perspective it was key to Norman success. As the surviving narratives tend to reflect the perspective of a ruler or of a church, noble violence tends to be portrayed as disruptive and oppressive. In fact, kings had to work with other powerful figures, lay lords, bishops and abbots, and the latter were expected to support their kings with armed forces, as we saw earlier in this chapter. Perhaps only the King of Sicily was rich enough to pay for large numbers of mercenary soldiers and for ships, and even he expected great men to provide military service. In Italy, the process

of

establishing

power

over

the

many

local

territories was very protracted and extended beyond the creation of the kingdom in 1130. In England, the principle of service in return for land was already established in 1066, but there were significant changes under the Normans. Land was granted conditionally in return for knight service, forming a tighter relationship between landholding, service, and lordship. The bond thus created gave the king important financial rights over succession to land as well as payment in lieu of service. In Antioch clearly the prince needed military service from those who held lands and castles. The relationship between rulers and their great men therefore remained of critical importance. Even as princes grew more powerful and cries of ‘tyranny’ were heard in the Sicily of Roger II and the England of Henry II, the fact was that these kings could not rule without the backing of a sufficient number of the other powerful men.233 Slowly the idea of allegiance to the king as something greater than a lord gained ground and, correspondingly, an understanding that plotting against the king was treason began to surface, as in the Assizes of Ariano in 1140 and in Glanvill, writing about English common law in the later twelfth century.234 Antioch was different: here the preoccupation was with the obligations to a liege lord which include not only service but, perhaps not surprisingly, the duty not to desert the principality unless given permission to leave. Those found in breach of their obligation were to lose their lands.235

Conclusion The Normans were led by men who were brutally efficient in seizing territory, towns and cities. Whether they imposed generally heavier regimes on their peasant workforce in southern Italy, Sicily and Antioch is hard to determine and may have varied regionally, but in England the survival of the Domesday Book leaves little room to doubt that many peasants were subjected to heavier services, and in some cases relocation. In Italy and England, Norman rulers inherited administrative agencies which could be taken over

and

further

developed:

in

Antioch

these

were

constructed from scratch. In all three, the ruler’s power became more pervasive, laying foundations for the more integrated and centralized polities of the twelfth century. How far had these developments gone by about 1100, and how should the contribution of the Normans be assessed? Were there two if not three Norman states? England and Sicily were kingdoms and Antioch, though a principality, enjoyed a great deal of autonomy. Anglo-Saxon England,

owing

to

its

well-developed

apparatus

of

government, has been regarded as a state, as has the twelfth-century kingdom of Sicily. The temptation, then, has been to see the Normans as state-builders, using inherited agencies, allying them to a tight feudal relationship with the nobles, and suppressing opposition. As noted earlier, Thomas Bisson has argued that the exercise of power did not equate to state-building.236

So far as England is concerned, some have seen the Normans as injecting dynamism into a kingdom that was sophisticated in terms of governance but politically weak. Others have argued that the Normans simply made use of Anglo-Saxon skills and exploited them for financial gain until the agencies began to buckle under pressure, a process which began in the 1120s and gathered pace in the conflict

of

undoubtedly

Stephen’s

reign.237

divisive,

subjecting

Norman the

rule

was

majority

host

population to ruthless domination by a foreign elite. After the Vikings, the Normans were, of course, the second conquest of the eleventh century by a foreign elite. What was different about 1066 was the completeness of the replacement of the landed elite, the top tier of officials, and the top ranks of the church, underpinned by the message that William was the heir and successor of King Edward. The Norman kings of England were also rulers of Normandy for several periods, and this necessitated strategies for coping with sometimes protracted periods of absence of the king and the court. On the other hand, the stranglehold of the Godwins was destroyed, the north was more firmly integrated into the kingdom than before and, if the Domesday Inquest drew on English documentation and administrative infrastructure, the fact remains that it was an unparalleled achievement. In southern Italy the Hautevilles claimed superior authority, though much power rested in the hands of local

lords, and cities. Use was made initially of Lombard and Byzantine administrators, and then in Sicily of Islamic practices, looking not to the Sicilian past but to Fatimid Egypt.238 Antioch was autonomous only for a few years, and the governance of the principality was that of a feudal lordship, centred on the prince’s retinue with a household administration and an inner group of nobles: there was nothing new about this arrangement. It would be a mistake to see a gulf between Sicily and Antioch, the one a state and the other not, in the way that ducal Normandy was for much of its history largely autonomous. Overall then, the Normans as rulers in the eleventh century were not innovators: their gains were made chiefly through war and conquest, though these in turn laid the basis for further developments in the twelfth century.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE NORMANS AND THE CHURCH in the shaping of the T western church. From being relatively decentralized and HE ELEVENTH CENTURY WAS CRUCIAL

regionally varied, it developed into a single hierarchy. At the apex was the bishop of Rome, no longer only a patriarch but now, in the west at least, acknowledged as supreme. Bishops were at the head of chapters and dioceses, organized (mostly) according to a common plan. Great numbers flocked into monastic communities, which came to be organized under different ‘rules’ determining their way of life. Christian piety was marked by growing numbers taking to the roads as pilgrims, to venerate saints. Many cults, of course, still drew their primary adherents locally and regionally, but in the central middle ages ‘international’ saints became increasingly popular, such as St Catherine of Alexandria, St Michael, and St Nicholas of Bari. The boundaries of Christendom were being enlarged, and this brought more Christians into contact with Muslims, in Spain, Sicily and the Holy Land. By the end of the eleventh century the idea that a just war could be conducted against non-Christians had taken hold. The Crusades helped to strengthen the idea of Christendom as an entity. In all of these developments the Normans played a part and in some of them made a considerable contribution, and, in turn, Norman successes were in no

small measure due to the image fostered by their apologists that they were pious sons of the church.

1. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, the likeliest patron of the Bayeux Tapestry, riding into battle. He is armed with a mace rather than a sword.

2. Victims of war in 1066: a woman and child burned out of their home.

3. Greek fire, shown here in the illustrated twelfth-century Madrid manuscript of the chronicle of John Skylitzes. It was

used by the Venetians in 1081 against Robert Guiscard at the siege of Dyrrachion.

4.  The White Tower, London. Built of stone shipped from Caen and situated in the south-east corner of the Roman walls, this prestige castle overlooked the river Thames.

5. Richmond castle, Yorkshire. Built by the Breton follower of the Conqueror, Count Alan, this enclosure site with its fortified gate and stone hall overlooked the river Swale and guarded a key route into England from the north.

6. Paternò castle near Catania founded by Roger I, Count of Sicily, in 1072. This is an example of a tower which looks largely unchanged from the Norman era.

7.  A nineteenth-century illustration by Gustave Doré of Bohemond and his troops scaling the walls of Antioch. This was the crucial breakthrough in the siege of the city by the Crusaders.

8. The castle of Qal’at Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn (Saône) in Syria. Already fortified at the time of the Normans’ arrival, the site was strengthened by the addition of a great ditch, a donjon, and secondary towers. It was to be one of the most formidable fortresses of the twelfth-century principality of Antioch.

9. King Roger II of Sicily, dressed in Byzantine robes. He is shown receiving his crown from Christ in the twelfthcentury

mosaic

from

the

church

of

Santa

Maria

dell’Ammiraglio, Palermo, endowed by his chief minister, Admiral George of Antioch.

10.  Mausoleum of Bohemond, Canosa di Puglia. Abutting the cathedral of St Sabinus, this mausoleum is thought to be inspired by those of Byzantine emperors at the church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople.

11.  The seal of William the Conqueror. On one side is the king enthroned in majesty, an image modelled on the seal of Edward the Confessor. On the other, for the first time, is a mounted warrior, either William himself or possibly a warrior saint.

12.  The church of St Stephen, Caen, endowed by William the Conqueror and his place of burial. The church represented a high water mark of Norman architecture in the second half of the eleventh century.

13. The church of St Nicholas, Bari, built to house the relics of St Nicholas. Its west front shown here closely resembles that of St Stephen in Caen.

14.  SS. Trinità, Venosa, was the burial place of the early members

of

the

Hauteville

family,

including

Robert

Guiscard. The church incorporated an early Christian basilica.

15. The castle at Caen. Founded by William the Conqueror, the enclosure includes a stone hall dating probably from the late eleventh century, now used for exhibitions. Here we see a display depicting the coronation mantle of Roger II, King of Sicily.

16. This statue of 1851 of William the Conqueror at Falaise was funded by public subscription. It shows the duke in heroic pose holding aloft the pope’s banner. Status of William’s six predecessors were added at a later date. The Normans and the Papacy The relationship between the Normans and the eleventhcentury papacy proved to be mutually beneficial. At the time of the Normans’ arrival in Italy the papacy was in the

doldrums, elections being dominated by different Roman clans.1 Initially the Normans were regarded as brigands, but Leo IX’s military failure at Civitate led to a change of tack, as the popes realized an accommodation was needed with these aggressive newcomers and this was reached in 1059 at Melfi. Robert Guiscard was assigned the title of Duke of Apulia, Calabria and Sicily, thus giving him higher status than the other Norman lords and, swearing fealty and promising tribute, he also received the title from the pope.2 In 1059 the conquest of Sicily had not begun, but it seems that successive popes were prepared to support the efforts of Count Roger there, as both Alexander II and Gregory VII granted him indulgences.3 In 1098 Urban II granted Roger power to act in place of a legate, which in effect gave Roger a great deal of influence over the structure and personnel of the Sicilian church.4 Meanwhile relations between popes and Robert Guiscard and his successors were punctuated by periods of difficulty, not least because Benevento, whose citizens had placed themselves under papal overlordship, was an enclave within Norman territory.5 Gregory VII in particular found himself at odds with Robert Guiscard, excommunicating him in 1074, 1075, and again in 1080. The problem was that Gregory needed the military backing which Robert could provide as Gregory’s relations with the Emperor Henry IV went from bad to worse. The two were reconciled

in 1080, and four years later Robert rode to the pope’s rescue when he was besieged in the Castel Sant’Angelo. Having sacked the city and rescued the pope, Robert departed.6 Popes took a close interest in southern Italy, making

personal

visits,

holding

councils

there,

and

adjudicating disputes.7 The Peace of God was preached by the pope in 1089 at Melfi, and 1093, 1115, and 1120 at Troia.8 Finally, the papacy was the midwife of the monarchy. Pope Honorius II refused to recognize Roger II as his cousin William’s heir in 1127, but three years later the antipope Anacletus issued a bull which recognized Roger as king.9 Pope Innocent II was not of course going to recognize the legitimacy of any acts of Anacletus, but in 1139 he issued a bull confirming the legitimacy of the kingdom.10 Friction continued, but after the death of Roger II, William I and Pope Adrian IV came to terms at Benevento in 1156. The pope recognized William as king, invested him with the kingdom and received homage. There followed a settlement of most of the outstanding issues, the northern boundary of the kingdom, the holding of episcopal and abbatial elections, attendance at church councils and the role of legates.11 Relations between the papacy and the Norman kings of England were different. Before 1066 English kings revered the papacy and paid the annual tribute known as Peter’s Pence, but popes were distant figures who had little

practical power over kings.12 Although there is relatively little direct evidence, the voice of the king over the choice of archbishops, bishops and abbots was probably decisive. Kings

were

also

major

benefactors

of

Benedictine

monasteries.13 King William’s supporters claimed that he, like Count Roger in Sicily, was the recipient of a papal banner before the invasion of 1066 and later Pope Gregory VII was to claim that as Archdeacon Hildebrand he had been heavily criticized for his backing of the invasion.14 For the first few years, relations with the papacy seem to have continued as before. Papal legates visited England in 1070 and presided over the changes in personnel and the promulgation of penances on the Normans.15 There were complications over Canterbury’s primatial claims, but it was when Gregory VII became pope that relations with England became more difficult.16 In the first place, he wanted Lanfranc to visit Rome, a request which Lanfranc refused on the grounds of his age and the distance involved.17 Then in 1080 came the pope’s request for the king’s fealty on the grounds that Peter’s Pence was a form of tribute: William the Conqueror famously rejected the first and promised to look into arrears of the second.18 In practice for the rest of his reign and that of his successor William Rufus no official recognition was given of either pope or anti-pope: the kings were able to avoid this difficult decision.

What

complicated

matters

was

Archbishop

Anselm’s departure from England in 1096 for the court of

Pope Urban II and, whilst there, he heard the pope explicitly condemn lay investiture.19 When he returned to England in 1100 at the request of the new King Henry I, he refused both to perform homage and to accept investiture from the new king, and further refused to consecrate bishops and abbots who had performed homage to the king.20 A contest ensued, with the pope seeking to support the archbishop but not alienate the king, and eventually a compromise was reached whereby the king retained the homage of bishops and abbots but agreed to surrender lay investiture.21 By the early twelfth century there was much more contact between England and the papacy than formerly: appeals over the Canterbury primacy, and over the claims to exemption from episcopal authority of monasteries, meant deputations going backwards and forwards. Henry proved a slippery customer when it came to allowing papal legates into England, but political considerations – the need to prevent his nephew and claimant to England and Normandy from making an advantageous marriage by securing a papal dispensation – meant that in 1126 he did allow a legate to conduct a visitation in England.22 After Henry’s death, the volume of appeals to Rome continued to grow and King Stephen, even had he wished, was unable to resist the trend.23 When the Norman rulers of Antioch installed a Latin patriarch, the question of his relations with Rome surfaced. In

the

early

church

Antioch

like

Rome,

Alexandria,

Constantinople, and Jerusalem, was the seat of a patriarch. As a city especially associated with St Peter, Antioch had claims to equal status with Rome. Indeed, in 1098 the Crusaders urged Pope Urban to join them.24 The region round Tripoli, including Tyre, was within the boundaries of Antioch rather than Jerusalem. This led to a bitter dispute between the patriarchs of Antioch and Jerusalem during which they appealed to the authority of Rome. In 1109 Paschal II decided that the disputed region was to belong to Jerusalem, claiming that as pope he had the right to alter ecclesiastical

boundaries.

Emissaries

were

sent

from

Antioch to the council of Benevento in 1113, and the pope changed his mind in favour of Antioch. In practice the pope did not want to undermine the position of the Latin patriarch Bernard of Valence too far as he was a stabilizing power in the principality. Bernard retained Tripoli and Tortosa, and Innocent II consecrated a bishop of Byblos. Bernard

commissioned

legates,

and

seems

to

have

commanded a military force, the acies Sancti Petri.25 So papal authority was recognized in Antioch, but a good deal depended on timing and context. The

second

patriarch

was

Ralph

of

Domfront,

Archbishop of Mamistra.26 He chose not to travel to Rome to receive his pallium, but took Bernard’s from the high altar of the cathedral.27 He insisted that Raymond of Poitiers, whose marriage to Constance of France he celebrated,

perform

homage.28

When

Emperor

John

Comnenos entered the city in 1137 a Greek patriarch was appointed. Ralph was arraigned on charges relating to the apportionment of revenues at Antioch, and he appealed to the pope, Innocent II, travelling to Italy to do so. The pope recognized Ralph as patriarch, but on his return to Antioch, Raymond forbade him to enter the city. Although Ralph was reconciled with one of those who had brought charges against him, the other, a canon named Arnulf, refused to do so. The case was referred to the pope who appointed a new legate, Alberic of Ostia, who called a synod in 1140 at which

charges

fornication

were

of

uncanonical

laid

against

election, Ralph.

He

simony once

and more

appealed to Rome, and it seems that he was vindicated and was preparing to return to his see when he died.29 His relationship with Raymond of Poitiers was evidently much less harmonious than that of Bernard, Bohemond and Tancred. Undoubtedly, he faced difficulties because of the powers vying for control of Antioch, and was prepared to invoke the authority of Rome to achieve restoration. In a wider context, the eleventh-century re-evaluation of the relationship between Christianity and warfare helped to sanitize the Normans’ conquests. In Italy the Normans were regarded as brigands, and it took time for their leaders to be repackaged as faithful and generous sons of the church (see above, pp. 74, 83–4). The rupture between the eastern and western churches in 1054 made it less likely popes would object to the establishment of Latin

churches in the south. The conquest of Sicily from nonbelievers fitted into an idea of militant Christianity seen in Iberia, and both paved the way for the call for an armed pilgrimage to Jerusalem, which had fallen into the hands of unbelievers. The spectacular success of the First Crusade in itself could be presented as a sign of God’s approval. It also helped to cement papal headship of the Latin church. The bounds of Latin Christianity were being enlarged. The conquest of England was different. This was a Christian kingdom ruled by kings, many of whom had been generous patrons of monasteries, most recently Edward the Confessor,

who

had

generously

endowed

an

abbey

dedicated to St Peter himself. Duke William claimed that the childless king had nominated him as his heir, a claim publicized in the chronicles of William of Poitiers and William of Jumièges, but not universally accepted, as Elisabeth Van Houts has demonstrated.30 The bloodshed not only in battle but also afterwards was criticized, as Pope Gregory VII was later to claim. However, it was also true that in the wake of incursions into Wales, the structure and

institutions

of

the

Welsh

church

were

to

be

transformed by the conquerors. In Britain as in Italy, the Normans associated themselves with contemporary ideals of reform in the church. Ecclesiastical Reform One of the most striking consequences of the Normans’ arrival in southern Italy was the establishment of a

framework

of

territorial

dioceses

headed

by

Latin

bishops.31 On the mainland these were numerous, small, and often relatively poor, whereas in Sicily the dioceses (nine) were fewer and richer. Little is known about the process by which dioceses came into being, or about the way bishops were chosen, though on the mainland many evidently came from southern Italy.32 Loud pointed out that by the twelfth century few were monks or were from the higher nobility, and only a few from Normandy.33 Because the dioceses were relatively small and underfunded, bishops probably spent most of their time at their cathedrals. Their staff included an archdeacon, to act as deputy, and an archpriest, to supervise rural parishes.34 Many local churches in the eleventh century were proprietary, that is to say, founders retained rights over them and many passed hereditarily within families.35 This practice flew in the face of what reformers were trying to achieve, but clerical marriage was only slowly eradicated. As it disappeared, bishops were gradually able to exercise more influence over the choice of local clergy. The choice of Lanfranc, Abbot of St Stephen’s Caen, as the first archbishop of Canterbury appointed under the Normans, was intended to put a man whom King William trusted in charge of one of the most important positions in the Latin church.36 Although the English church was venerable and respected, it was conservative in temper and, from Lanfranc’s perspective, there was much to do.

One target was the recovery and protection of Canterbury’s lands and rights which involved a great series of lawsuits.37 It was also necessary to allocate Canterbury land to fulfil the obligation of knight service to the king.38 At Canterbury itself a new cathedral and monastic buildings were built, and the library was stocked with patristic texts.39 Lanfranc also founded a priory of St Gregory and, as already noted, two hospitals, one dedicated to St John, and the other a leper hospital at Harbledown dedicated to St Nicholas.40 Another move was the reorganization of the see of Rochester whose bishop Gundulf, formerly of Bec, became Lanfranc’s assistant.41 Church councils were the principal channel through which reforming ideas were promulgated, as well as Lanfranc’s letters to individual ecclesiastics.42 He held seven councils, in 1072 at Winchester and Windsor, 1075 at St Paul’s, 1076 at Winchester, 1077–78 at London, and 1081 and 1085 at Gloucester.43 At these meetings the twin targets of clerical marriage and simony were condemned, and some bishops’ headquarters were relocated, such as Dorchester to Lincoln and Sherborne to Salisbury. Lanfranc was a notable canon lawyer, and his expertise was reflected in his own collection of canons.44 He also issued a set of monastic constitutions, modelled on the practice of Bec, which were issued to English Benedictine houses as a kind of manual of best practice.45

From the start he wanted to establish the primacy of Canterbury over York and over the wider British church, an aim which brought an immediate collision with the newly nominated archbishop of York, Thomas.46 The contest was fought out both in England and at Rome. Pope Alexander II diplomatically referred the issue back to a church council in England. This was presided over by the king and although the decision at this stage went in favour of Canterbury, the dispute resurfaced each time there was a new appointment to either Canterbury or York, as incoming archbishops had a duty to defend the rights of their sees. Not only that, but Lanfranc never managed to secure a papal

privilege

which

would

have

copper

fastened

Canterbury’s position. Archbishop Thurstan of York (1114– 40) went into exile rather than make a profession to Canterbury. In 1120 he was consecrated by the pope, Pascal II, to the irritation of both King Henry and the archbishop of Canterbury.47 Lanfranc enjoyed good relations with Pope Alexander II, who had studied at Bec, but less so with his successor Gregory VII. The latter’s efforts to secure Lanfranc’s presence in Rome were rebuffed, and king and archbishop saw eye to eye on Gregory’s demand for an oath of fealty by the Conqueror. Gregory’s difficulties with the emperor, his death and the subsequent disputed papal election, meant that Lanfranc was able to evade further requests. However, it was a sign of things to come that kings and archbishops

would find it harder to resist increasing papal intervention in the English church. Meanwhile the process of restructuring the English church continued. The cathedral churches of several dioceses were relocated to cities, chapter officers – dean, chancellor, treasurer and precentor – were appointed, endowments allocated, and archdeacons were appointed for subdivisions of dioceses. Many of these changes would have happened anyway, but the impulse provided by incoming Norman bishops is undeniable. The newcomers were almost all Normans: there is a clear sense that the king

wanted

his

bishops,

commanding

considerable

resources, to be reliable men. Lanfranc also wished to push ahead with a reforming agenda and, through the medium of councils, denounced contemporary evils, especially married clergy. As in Italy, there were married clergy even at the highest levels, and their eradication here as elsewhere was a very protracted affair. In the aftermath of the Conquest, many churches were given to monasteries by their new Norman lords, probably in response to the message that lay possession of churches was wrong. As in Italy, bishops faced a protracted struggle to assert their authority over local churches, and over the clergy who served them.48 The Welsh church in contrast was organized differently. There were bishops, but they were not subject to an archbishop, and the boundaries of their bishoprics had yet

to be fixed.49 There were monastic communities which acted as mother churches for their local areas. Their members

were

often

married

and

transmitted

their

property to their children. When change came, its speed and direction were enhanced by the reorientation of relationships between the English and Welsh churches. Canterbury began to flex its muscles and to insist on professions of obedience by incoming bishops, who were now not Welsh. The earliest was Hervey, a Breton chosen by William Rufus to be bishop of Bangor, but driven into exile

two

years

later.50

Cathedral

chapters

and

archdeaconries were established, and a map of parishes was slowly delineated. Bishops of St David’s sought to establish metropolitan authority against the claims of Canterbury in the twelfth century but, unlike the struggle in Scotland by the bishops of St Andrews, St David’s was ultimately to fail in its bid to achieve status as the metropolitan church of Wales.51 In Antioch initially the Greek patriarch, John IV, who had been

imprisoned

during

the

siege,

was

restored.52

However, the consecration of four Latin bishops by Daimbert, the pope’s legate and patriarch of Jerusalem, prompted John to retire.53 This cleared the way for the appointment of a Latin patriarch, Bernard of Valence, Bishop of Artah.54 At the time of his appointment he was already head of five Latin suffragan bishoprics, a number which had grown to fourteen by the time of his death.55 He

then proceeded to appoint Latin bishops for Albara, which became an archbishopric based at Apamea, Edessa, Tarsus, Mamistra and Artah. Over time bishops, based in towns, had cathedral clergy, but there were very few other churches in these towns, or rural churches. Patriarch Bernard helped to secure Bohemond’s release from captivity in 1103, and then accompanied him to Edessa.56 In 1105 he preached before the battle of Artah.57 In

1114

Antioch

experienced

earthquakes,

patriarch

invoked

three

of

days

fasting.58

and

the

He

was

influential in policy decisions about war and peace.59 In 1115 when Roger of Salerno set out for Apamea, the city of Antioch was left in Bernard’s charge.60 When Roger was killed at the Field of Blood, Bernard organized the defence of the city until the arrival of the king of Jerusalem.61 King Baldwin

assumed

the

regency

of

Antioch,

but

was

necessarily absent a great deal, so the patriarch’s presence in the city was critically important.62 In comparison, Ralph of Domfront’s tenure was much less successful. It would have been difficult anyway because of the various hostile powers circling round Antioch, but his failure to achieve a good working relationship with Raymond of Poitiers was critical. Ralph was succeeded as patriarch by Aimery of Limoges. He was to be at odds with Renaud of Châtillon, the then Prince of Antioch, who had him arrested and left in the open air at the top of the citadel, smeared in honey.

Aimery subsequently went into exile, and returned only when Manuel Comnenos entered the city in 1159.63 Religious Life The eleventh and twelfth centuries were the apogee of medieval monasticism in the Latin west, as recruits, endowments and forms of religious life all multiplied. There were different types of community, some eremitical, others leading a common life. Some were informal, others highly structured. The Cistercians had lay brothers as well as monks, and military orders melded religious and knightly ideals. Hospitals were founded, and communities of canons living under an Augustinian rule were established. There was a certain fluidity as different groups were established and evolved into orders. The commanding position of the Normans in three theatres meant that they were crucial in shaping these trends. However, distinctly less provision was made for women than men, though evidently women felt equally drawn to the religious life. In southern Italy at the time of the Normans’ arrival there were the great Benedictine houses of Montecassino, San Vincenzo al Volturno, La Trinità di Cava, and Santa Sophia Benevento, and monks, some living as individual hermits, others in communities, following Greek traditions. Graham Loud has demonstrated how existing Benedictine houses benefitted from Norman patronage, and how the new lords founded new houses, such as Venosa, Mileto and, in the twelfth century, Monreale near Palermo.64 Latin

bishops succeeded Greeks, and some Greek monastic communities were placed under Latin bishops.65 The relationship between Greeks and Latins was not always adversarial: it has been pointed out that the lives of Greek saints show them to have been well rooted in their communities,

and

Greek

monks

mixed

easily

with

Benedictines.66 Receptivity to new orders depended very much on patronage. In the closing years of the eleventh century St Bruno of Cologne, the founder of the Carthusian order, was favoured by Count Roger I.67 The saint had been called to Rome by Pope Urban II in 1090 to help with the task of reform, and in the following year, with the assistance of Count Roger and the bishop of Squillace, a church was founded at Santa Maria della Torre not far from Mileto. Eremetical monasticism continued to exercise a strong draw. Saint John of Matera (c.1084–c.1139) lived an eremitical life on the Gargano peninsula, and founded Santa Maria de Pulsano there.68 He influenced Saint William of Vercelli, who arrived at Melfi in southern Italy en route to Jerusalem and was persuaded to stay. William built a church at Montevergine and founded a double house for men and women at S. Salvatore de Goleto.69 These houses, with

their

Benedictine

dependent

congregations,

communities.

Other

evolved

orders,

such

into as

Augustinians and Cistercians, were slower to penetrate the south, and only did so under the influence of lay patrons.70

Greek monasteries continued to flourish in the twelfth century. In England, Benedictine monasticism in 1066 was strong in the south and parts of the midlands, though monastic life in the north had been virtually wiped out in the Viking era. Burton

on

Trent

was

the

most

northerly

surviving

Benedictine house, and there were very few houses for women.71 In the tenth century King Edgar (959–75) and Archbishop

Dunstan

of

Canterbury

(959–88)

had

spearheaded reform. Bishop Æthelwold of Winchester (963–84) had established monks there as had Bishop Oswald (961–92, archbishop of York 971–92) at Worcester. At the end of the tenth century Benedictines were introduced

at

Canterbury.

There

were

other

major

foundations, such as Bury St Edmunds and Westminster Abbey. The high standing of monks in the kingdom was reflected in their appointment as bishops, a tendency which had begun to slacken by 1066. The arrival of Lanfranc, himself a Benedictine, might suggest that more monastic bishops would be appointed. At Rochester, a see whose bishop could act as the archbishop’s coadjutor, the monastic community was revived, and at Durham in 1083 Bishop William of Saint-Calais introduced Benedictine observance to the community.72 When the East Anglian see was finally settled at Norwich, a monastery was attached to the cathedral.73 Other efforts to monasticize bishoprics

failed: the midlands bishop tried unsuccessfully to move into the abbey at Coventry and then moved to Chester;74 the bishop of Bath was granted the abbey there but finally made his headquarters at Wells;75 at Winchester the monks resisted the efforts of Bishop Walkelin to introduce canons.76 English abbots were succeeded by Normans, recruited mainly from St Stephen’s Caen, Jumièges or Fécamp. Lanfranc’s

oversight

was

outlined

in

his

Monastic

Constitutions which prescribed usages mainly drawn from Cluny and, in part, from the abbey of Bec in Normandy.77 On the whole the new Norman elite did not shower wealth on existing houses, preferring to give churches land and property to continental, mainly Norman, houses.78 Three exceptions in the eleventh century we have already noted were Roger, Earl of Shrewsbury, who established an abbey at Shrewsbury, Hugh, Earl of Chester, who refounded St Werburgh’s at Chester, and William and Gundrada de Warenne who founded Lewes Priory (see above, pp. 93–4). Gradually

monastic

houses

were

re-established

or

founded from scratch in northern England, beginning in the late eleventh century at York, at Whitby, where there had been a famous double house for men and women, henceforth for men only, and at Durham. Some of the great lords gave lands to continental houses, at York, for instance, Holy Trinity was established as a priory of Marmoutier, and Pontefract as a dependency of La Charité-

sur-Loire.79 In the reign of Henry I the pace of monastic foundations accelerated. Augustinian foundations became very fashionable, the lead taken by the royal court, and, in the closing years of the reign, Cistercians.80 There was a similar pattern to monastic foundations in Wales. Initially Norman lords gave land, churches and tithes to continental or English religious houses, but then, in the twelfth century,

founders

looked

to

the

Cistercians,

whose

communities made a profound impact on Wales.81 The situation in the principality of Antioch was different. Here there were Greek monasteries at the time of the First Crusade, as well as Jacobite and Armenian communities. Relatively few new Latin houses were founded; instead patronage

flowed

towards

the

military

orders,

the

Hospitallers and the Templars.82 Shrines and Pilgrimages The

veneration

of

saints

was

central

to

medieval

Christianity.83 There were saints for every occasion in life, as protectors, intercessors, and as powerful figures able to intervene in human affairs. Some were known only as names; the fame of others was widespread, most of all the Blessed Virgin Mary whose veneration continued to grow.84 Some attracted pilgrims from far afield, like St James of Compostela; many more had a much more local clientele.85 Veneration was focussed on places where saints had lived or, more commonly, had died. Shrines were established

there, often housing bodily relics and cared for by religious communities. Pilgrimages were undertaken as acts of piety, in the hope of assistance or in fulfilment of vows. Travelling to the places associated with the life and ministry of Jesus Christ was the sign of greatest devotion. There were mass pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and it was the custody of the Holy Places and the safety of pilgrims that prompted Pope Urban II to call for an armed pilgrimage. The cult of St Catherine of Sinai spread to the west, and in the early eleventh century an abbey dedicated to her was founded at Rouen.86 Rome was another goal of pilgrimage.87 Pilgrims might become traders or soldiers: we have seen how Norman pilgrims on their way back from Jerusalem aided the Salernitans against Moorish attackers (see above, p. 69). Pilgrimage was difficult and sometimes dangerous: those who embarked on long-distance pilgrimage had to face the possibility, even probability, that they would never return. They also needed funds, for which land might well be mortgaged or sold. Women as well as men were prepared to share the risks. There were long-term shifts in the focus of veneration over the medieval centuries, and the rise and fall of individual cults often reflected the concerns of those who promoted them. The proliferation of feasts attached to the Virgin Mary is one example. Another was the veneration of warrior saints, George, Demetrius and Michael, which

reached new heights in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The Normans were especially attached to the cult of St Michael, who was venerated especially at Mont-SaintMichel on the border with Brittany and at Monte Gargano in Italy.88 The cult of St Nicholas of Myra was given a great boost when merchants of Bari seized the saint’s relics and took them back to Bari, housing them in a new church where they rest to this day.89 The veneration of early medieval figures, about whom often little was known, might well be revived and promoted by the discovery of relics and their translation to new shrines with great ceremony and sometimes to new buildings (see below, pp. 215–16). Most saints, whether from the early medieval past, or created more recently were men. Those who had not been martyred for their faith were often monks, bishops, or ascetic hermits. The study of saints’ cults has much to teach about those who promoted cults and those who participated in them. The study of pilgrimages throws light on travels and travellers, on connections and networks. Many texts remain unedited, and even more lack modern editions and translations, but when the conventions they follow are understood, they are an invaluable source. In the main theatres of Norman action, the situation in the Holy Land was different from that of Italy and the west. Jerusalem

was

destination

of

the

holiest

pilgrimage.

place There

and were

the other

ultimate places

associated with the life of Christ or with other biblical

figures

where

there

were

Christian

churches

and

communities often of Orthodox monks. When the Crusaders arrived

their

efforts

were

directed

towards

the

embellishment and protection of these sites.90 In southern Italy there were important shrines. As well as the sanctuary of St Michael, already mentioned, Montecassino housed St Benedict’s own community and the relics of St Benedict and his sister Scholastica most fortuitously discovered in 1068.91 In 954 the relics of St Matthew were translated from Lucania to Salerno which became the most important centre of his cult,92 which gained in popularity in the later eleventh century through the efforts of Archbishop Alfanus and the backing of Robert Guiscard who supplied major funds for the building of a new cathedral.93 Other bishops duly discovered relics of early medieval saints: Drogo – evidently from his name a Norman – discovered the relics of St Cataldus, an Irish saint, at Taranto;94 Stephen, the Norman Bishop of Troia, discovered the relics of St Secundinus.95 In those areas of southern Italy and Sicily with Greek-speaking populations, there were saints of a different kind, ascetic wandering eremitical figures like St Neilos.96 Their vitae are important for their role as intermediaries with local people, both Christians and Muslims, and for continuities across the period of Norman intrusion. In Sicily the Arab conquest seems to have cut across earlier patterns of veneration. Two important Sicilian martyrs were Lucy and Agatha, but

their relics were absent from the island in the eleventh century. However, around 1130 the bishop of Catania staged a translation of Agatha’s relics, after which her cult blossomed and she became a focus of veneration and a symbol of the city.97 In England the Normans had taken over a church replete

with

many

insular

saints,

with

a

particular

veneration for the Virgin.98 According to William of Malmesbury, there were saints in every village.99 The Benedictine houses for men and women were particularly important as custodians of shrines, which included those of bishops and archbishops, kings, queens and princesses. The reaction of the Normans to these saints, many of whom would have been unknown to them, has been variously assessed.100 At one time the idea that the Normans were generally hostile was challenged,101 and it appears that Lanfranc in particular was dubious, especially of the claim to sanctity of Ælfheah, Archbishop of Canterbury who in 1012 had been clubbed to death by the Vikings.102 The situation at Canterbury which Archbishop Lanfranc faced was challenging. His aim was to refocus worship on the central tenets of the faith. When the cathedral was rebuilt, Archbishop Dunstan was given a place of honour but other English saints were placed in corners, much to the distress of Eadmer, a monk who was himself English.103 The claim of St Augustine to be the apostle of the English was also tacitly challenged by the promotion by Lanfranc of

Pope Gregory the Great, who had authorized Augustine’s mission.104 An added complication was the proximity to the cathedral of St Augustine’s abbey which sought to claim exemption from the archbishop’s control. Here in 1091 the monks

had

the

saint’s

relics

translated

in

a

great

ceremony.105 In fact it seems there was a range of responses to native cults. At Bury, Abbot Baldwin, who had been King Edward’s physician, remained in favour with William. The abbey church was rebuilt and the relics of St Edmund were translated with much solemnity.106 At Winchester the cult of St Swithun was mobilized to defend the monastic community against the bishop’s plan to establish a secular cathedral.107 At Westminster in contrast there seems to have been little early interest in a cult of King Edward, though he was later sanctified. The impact of radical change could be deflected by the promotion of a saint: thus the discovery of St Milburgh’s relics followed the gift of the endowment of the church at Wenlock to La Charité-surLoire.108 The establishment of a Benedictine community at Durham by Bishop William of Saint-Calais was followed by the building of a new cathedral and in 1104 the translation of relics of St Cuthbert.109 In contrast some abbots were wary or even hostile. Abbot Walter of Evesham subjected some of the abbey’s holy relics to trial by fire, though not the most important in its possession, that of St Wistan.110

There was thus a range of reactions to saints’ cults in postConquest England rather than blanket hostility. There was a wealth of hagiographic writing in the century following the Norman Conquest, and Paul Hayward has argued that this reflected concerns of communities of English men and women about their future under Norman rule: the vitae consistently refer to the role of kings and bishops in authorizing the cults, for instance.111 The Normans’ views of English saints should not be boiled down to either scepticism or enthusiastic adoption: each case was different. As patrons, then, Norman kings and lords could choose to promote particular saints, lavish wealth on their shrines, and in return receive the prayers of the monks, the possibility of burial within an abbey and good publicity. How

far

their

activities

assisted

acculturation

and

integration is harder to judge, and a great deal must have depended on particular circumstances. Conclusion The Normans were thus at the heart of developments which were reshaping the church in the Christian west, but key questions are how far these had begun before their arrival, and how far they would have happened anyway? At its crudest, it may be argued that the boundaries of Latin Christendom were enlarged in Sicily and in the Near East, though in each case Christians were in a numerical minority. In southern Italy the foundation of dioceses and

parishes served by celibate clergy was a protracted process and the number of Norman bishops and abbots can never have been great. The coming of the Normans had a great effect on the church in England and also in Wales. In England there was an almost complete sweep of personnel at the top, complete rebuilding, which is discussed in the next chapter, and many churches and tithes were given to northern French religious houses. The new Norman lords proved receptive

to

the

new

orders.

The

Tironensians

and

Savigniacs grew out of eremitical communities living in the forests which surrounded Normandy, while the Cistercians, arriving late in Henry I’s reign, proved highly attractive to founders.112 Thus the influences were flowing mainly from northern France to the British Isles. English ecclesiastics tended to evangelize in Scandinavia as the processes of conversion there continued. Only the Gilbertines originated in England. The Augustinians proved to be very popular, possibly because the rule provided a structured framework for communities of clerks. There were different kinds of foundations: some, like Holy Trinity Aldgate in London, in an urban setting; others, like Nostell, overseeing a network of rural churches.113 The impact of the Normans on the Welsh church was still more profound, in terms of diocesan and parish structure, and the transfer of church lands to Norman or English churches. In the Scottish and Irish churches change was beginning before the arrival of the

Normans. In Scotland it had begun under Malcolm and Margaret, continued under Alexander, and undoubtedly speeded

up

in

the

reign

of

King

David.

Here

too

Augustinians were popular and at St Andrews and Dunkeld were established alongside earlier communities.114 There is at least no evidence of potential tensions between natives and newcomers in this region. In Ireland, too, the Irish church was already opening up to external influence in the early

twelfth

century.

Beyond

England

and

Wales,

therefore, the timing and nature of change in Scotland and Ireland was not determined by conquest.

CHAPTER NINE

ENCOUNTERS

A of

S THE NORMANS MOVED OUTSIDE

Europe,

the

nature

the duchy into other parts

and

significance

of

their

encounters with those they conquered come to the forefront. At one level this is about human contacts, status, and space. How common was the practice of intermarriage, given that many of the conquerors were young males seeking to establish a lineage? How were the conquered treated, as captives, officials, or slaves? How far were natives and newcomers physically separated, either living behind castle walls or in separate neighbourhoods in towns and cities? Were Normans distinguished by their dress, ornaments, or the way they wore their hair and, if so, did they maintain a distinctively Norman appearance? Cultural exchanges, appropriation, and transfer are different ways in which newcomers and natives came into contact. There is a fundamental difference between cultural exchange and appropriation, and a further difference when the parties are of equal or very unequal status, with conquerors on the one hand picking up and adopting practices from the conquered and on the other the conquered adapting to the practices of their masters. Circumstances and motives differed. Local craftsmen might have been used in building for reasons of pragmatism rather than ideology. Patrons of building projects might well be seeking to project particular images of their status

and power. Natives might choose to adopt the names of the conquerors as a conscious strategy, as in the case of males in post-Conquest England.1 The cultures in question were not themselves stable entities at the time they encountered each other, and the point has been made that encounters sometimes produced an outcome that was different from either. Ideas of hybridity have, for instance, been applied to literary and visual culture in Norman territories, especially the kingdom of Sicily.2 Cultural appropriation, whether of dress or ornament, has become a sensitive topic, as it is perceived by many as disrespecting the history and traditions of others. Whether this was equally so for the Normans is a question which has hardly been addressed. How far did they embrace or reject the dress and customs of the lands where they settled? In thinking about cultural encounters, a further set of variables is about the medium: speech, writing, and material remains. Then there are the questions of context and process: did the encounters occur in the context of forcible

conquest,

subsequent

accommodation,

acculturation, or rejection? What happened when Normans as western Christians came into contact with Greek Christians or non-Christians, Jews, or Muslims, given the Normans’ association with the reforming papacy? How receptive were the conquerors to non-Christian ideas, or did they simply reject them? The wider context of changing ideas in the west has to be borne in mind, as popes and

theologians drew a more precise distinction between orthodoxy and dissidence, and violence against nonChristians was coming to be legitimized. Relations with Conquered Peoples: Intermarriage The Normans, in imposing their rule in Italy, Britain and Antioch, were confronted with the fundamental issue of the treatment of conquered peoples: how much interaction was desirable, and under what conditions? When reading about the Normans, it is easy to gain the impression that intermarriage was common and that high-status marriage was an essential building block in the Normans’ rise to power. Women have been portrayed as ‘peace-weavers’, agents through whom natives and newcomers could be brought together. However, marriages had to be considered carefully: the wrong choice of partner might lead to involvement in feuds, or might lead to too much wealth draining from one family to another. Marriages which proved unsuccessful could be ended, though churchmen were increasingly emphasizing that legitimate marriages were binding.3 Brides, as in many societies, were usually provided for by both their natal and spousal families, but arrangements, and the degree of control exercised by married women over land and property, varied considerably. In southern Italy there were differences in laws: the Tyrrhenian cities of Benevento, Salerno, and Capua followed Lombard law as did parts of Apulia and Calabria, whilst Roman law

prevailed in Naples, Amalfi, and Gaeta. Those regions settled by Greeks, in southern Calabria and the Salento region of Apulia, followed Greek custom.4 According to Lombard custom a bride’s natal family provided her with a dowry, usually in the form of goods and clothing for setting up home, and the husband the morning gift, equivalent to a quarter of his property. Under Roman law daughters had inheritance rights and seem to have had more freedom to dispose of inherited land. Patricia Skinner has examined the evidence relating to female inheritance in Amalfi and, as she points out, although there is relatively little direct evidence on this point, the fact that women had been provided with dowries did not automatically exclude them from inheritance.5 In northern Italy the tide turned against female inheritance; in the south where politics remained dynastic, there seems to have been more possibility of female inheritance for longer, though admittedly the evidence is very patchy.6 The Assizes of Ariano of Roger II promulgated in the 1140s (see below, pp. 193–4) made provisions relating to marriage and women. It was laid down that to be legitimate marriages had to have a priestly blessing, a requirement which was not made compulsory elsewhere until much later.7 ‘Ancient laws’ relating to wards and orphans were to be enforced. In addition, the legal status of women was to be protected.8 In Italy intermarriage was crucial for the Normans, given their need to build bridges with Lombard princes,

and to legitimize their own gains. In England arguably title to land came from the king, rather than through marriage, though intermarriage might well have been considered as a means of securing a peaceful transfer of title. There may even have been security considerations in marrying an English woman for Norman husbands living in rural, modestly defended, households. In Antioch Bohemond and Tancred married princesses of France. Others married into Armenian families or, as time went on, into other crusading families. So far as the choice of marriage partners is concerned, Robert Guiscard married, first, Alberada, daughter of Gerard of Buonalbergo who provided Robert with two hundred knights, thus bringing manpower rather than land to

the

marriage.9

Robert

then

married

Sichelgaita,

daughter of Guaimar, Prince of Salerno.10 According to William of Apulia, Gisulf, Sichelgaita’s brother, was initially reluctant to permit the marriage because Robert came from a ‘fierce and barbarous race’.11 He added that the Lombards were more ready to follow the Normans as a result of the marriage.12 Writing for Roger, son of Robert Guiscard, William of Apulia therefore indicated that the marriage was for reasons of prestige and credibility. Robert’s half-brother Drogo married Sichelgaita’s sister at the same time.13 It is not clear what land, if any, Sichelgaita brought to the marriage. The princes of Salerno were the most powerful of the Lombards and in the early years of

the Norman presence in the south allying with them was critical. Catherine Heygate has studied marriage strategies in southern Italy, and has been able to trace a number of intermarriages, usually those of incomers to native women rather than the other way round.14 Relatively few of the incoming Normans married women from Normandy.15 She draws attention to the survival of Lombard names amongst the children of such marriages, contrasting this with postConquest England where Anglo-Saxon names were soon dropped, at least for boys.16 In England, the Normans and their allies were much more numerous, though still obviously in a minority, and after their victory at Hastings followed by a royal coronation, William could claim to be the legitimate successor of King Edward. The transfer of land to a new elite did thus not depend in theory on marriage. The greatest men, William’s lieutenants, were married before 1066, like the king himself. Younger men, especially those of middling rank, were more likely to be unmarried, but clear instances of intermarriage are not particularly numerous.17 It used to be thought that the Conquest was followed by a downturn in the relative freedom of women to dispose of their land and property.18 It is clear that this was a false contrast, relying too much on the evidence of preConquest wills, for which there are no post-Conquest equivalents.19 Although information is patchy and relates

only to elite families, provision was made for brides by both their own and their husbands’ families both before and after 1066.20 The form of endowment (potentially lands, property and movables), its timing (at the time of the marriage or subsequently), and the rights women enjoyed over bridewealth evolved, but 1066 seems to have been less of a decisive turning point than used to be thought. Inheritance customs are difficult to ascertain, especially as we rarely have a full family tree. The tendency in AngloSaxon England was already to prefer males over females.21 Women could transmit claims to land and property, though office remained problematic. Female inheritance might result in wealth passing to an outsider. After 1066 the fact that the greatest estates were held to be an entity, a barony worked against partibility, and put considerable power into the hands of the king, especially where there was no adult son to inherit.22 The whole of a great estate might pass via one daughter to an outsider. Henry I in 1100 laid down that barons should speak with him about the marriage of their daughters. Where a daughter was an heiress, they were only to be given in marriage on the advice of his barons.23 Subsequently it was laid down that where there were no sons but more than one daughter, daughters should share.24 Yet

these

arrangements

were

arguably

not

the

determining factor in the initial transfer of land, which was ultimately by royal fiat. Where intermarriage occurred,

pragmatic considerations about easing the transfer of lordship from the Norman perspective and helping English families to negotiate the transition to a new world are more likely to have operated. Intermarriages are likely to have been under-reported. The evidence of naming patterns shows that boys were more likely than girls to be given Norman or biblical names.25 Other

women

ecclesiastics.

formed

Well-known

relationships examples

with

include,

Norman first,

the

unnamed mother of the historian Orderic Vitalis, whose father was Odelerius, a French cleric in the household of Roger of Montgomery.26 Second, Alveva (Ælfgifu), aunt of the recluse Christina of Markyate, was the lover of Bishop Ranulf Flambard of Durham. She lived at Huntingdon, and presumably the bishop visited her on his journeys north and south.27 A third case was Matilda of Ramsbury, partner of Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, who held Devizes castle against King Stephen.28 Such relationships must have been common before the rules about clerical celibacy could be enforced.29 Some

women

took

refuge

in

or

near

monastic

communities. In a letter to a bishop identified only as ‘G’, Archbishop Lanfranc instructed that those who had not been professed or presented at the altar, thus giving an indication of their desire to be professed, were to leave. Those who could prove they had taken refuge for fear of the French were to be given unrestricted leave to depart.30

One such was Edith, later Queen Matilda, daughter of King Malcolm and Queen Margaret of Scots. She had been sent south and, as she later claimed, her aunt Christina, herself a nun, had compelled her to cover her head to avoid unwanted

male

attention.31

Another

was

Gunnhildr,

daughter of Harold Godwinson, who had been a nun for some time before entering a relationship with Count Alan Rufus.32 These women, of course, did leave monastic communities to marry, though others stayed, despite Lanfranc’s prohibition. The danger of sexual violence must have been acute in the immediate aftermath of 1066. Orderic noted that the soldiers who were guilty of plunder or rape were protected by Odo of Bayeux and William FitzOsbern, the king’s viceregents.33 In a later passage he wrote of the noble maidens exposed to the insults of low-born soldiers.34 William of Poitiers wrote that the Conqueror warned nobles to restrain themselves, and added that soldiers of middling and

lesser

rank

were

disciplined

by

appropriate

regulations.35 The Penitential Ordinance of 1070 laid down that those who committed rape, as well as fornication and adultery, were to pay penance.36 The ‘obituary’ of William the Conqueror inserted in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle claimed that those who were guilty of rape were to be castrated.37

How

often

rape

or

abduction

occurred,

especially in the early years, is simply unknowable, as is the situation where English women were forced into

slavery. For them the Normans were just the most recent examples of powerful men capable of violence. What can be said of Norman Crusaders and their contacts with native women, especially given the length of time such men were away from the west? Fulcher of Chartres in a famous passage refers to marriages not only ‘of their own people’ but also Syrians, Armenians and even converted Saracens.38 Marriages with Armenian Christians certainly occurred.39 Arnulf of Chocques, patriarch of Jerusalem, was said by Pope Paschal II to have had relationships with two women, one ‘the wife of Gerard’, the other a Saracen, who bore him a son. The same pope condemned

Arnulf

for

having

performed

a

marriage

between a Christian and a Saracen.40 There was always likely to be a shortage of brides from western Europe and only high-status men were likely to form such alliances, as, for instance, Bohemond, Tancred, and Baldwin II of Jerusalem. More information regarding intermarriage and offspring

may

potentially

be

provided

by

genome

sequencing of bones. In one study the bones belonging to nine individuals deposited in Sidon in the thirteenth century have been analysed. All were male, and two were a mixture

of

European

and

Near

Eastern

ancestries,

providing (admittedly limited) evidence of relationships with local women.41 Rape is not mentioned in the western chronicles of the First Crusade, whose authors were concerned to promote the religious purposes of the

Crusade, but nevertheless sexual violence did occur, as Arabic poetry indicates.42 The decrees of the Council of Nablus included two on the rape of Saracen women: he who raped a Muslim woman was to be castrated and she was to be handed over to the authorities; he who raped another man’s Muslim woman was to be castrated and expelled. Both provisions, it is thought, drew on Byzantine legislation, albeit with stiffer penalties.43 In the case of a Christian woman who freely had sex with a Saracen, both partners were to be punished as adulterers.44 The position of women with regard to marriage, land, and inheritance in the principality of Antioch was regulated by customs relating to fiefs. These were not written down until the early thirteenth century. They were broadly in line with feudal customs elsewhere, though a widow was allotted half of her husband’s fief and half of his movable property rather than a third as in England.45 The widow would hold the inheritance rather than the lord, as in England, and if she died the wardship would pass to a male relative. In other words, the widow was in theory left better provided for and had custody of the heir. A knight who married a woman with property of her own could keep her property for life if a child were born of the marriage. This was a provision which, it has been suggested, may have been a Norman importation.46 In England the custom was known as ‘the curtesy of England’, and had been confirmed by Henry I in 1100.47

Relations with Conquered Peoples: Religious Differences How then did the Normans treat those whose Christian practice was different from their own?48 Even more, how did they treat the non-Christians with whom they came into contact? The eleventh and twelfth centuries were crucial in the evolution of ideas in the Latin west. So far as the orthodox Christians were concerned, the rupture of 1054 between Rome and Constantinople proved to be longlasting, though this was not necessarily apparent at the time. Byzantine emperors continued to ask for help from the west, and it was partly in response to a plea from Emperor Alexios that Pope Urban called upon Christians to make an armed pilgrimage to the east.49 As the crusading hosts travelled through Byzantine lands and arrived at Constantinople, there were undoubtedly problems, not least the suspicion with which Bohemond was held, and his failure to hand Antioch back to the emperor helped to damage relations further.50 Relations between Armenian Christians and the Crusaders were on the whole amicable, as Armenian practices were more similar to western than Byzantine ones.51 Armenians invited Baldwin of Boulogne to take over Edessa, and Firuz, who admitted Bohemond’s men into Antioch, may have been an Armenian who had converted to Islam.52 In the later eleventh century attitudes in the west towards the Jews became more hostile.53 However, it does

not seem as though there was particular animosity shown by new Norman lords in the lands they conquered. In the British Isles, in fact, it seems that the Jews first crossed to England under the protection of William the Conqueror, probably from the large community at Rouen.54 At least, they are not recorded before 1066, whereas their presence in London is known from Rufus’s reign, and by the early twelfth century they are mentioned in other cities.55 In London the Jews settled in the district known as Old Jewry, from Milk Street to Lothbury and from Gresham Street to Cheapside, close to the Guildhall. They thus formed one of the neighbourhood communities in the city, though the district was never an enclosed ghetto as later in Italy. The chronicler Eadmer relates an anecdote of William Rufus restoring to Judaism Jews in Rouen who had been converted to Christianity, and also of his failure to persuade a convert, whose father had pleaded with the king, to return to Judaism.56 At the time when Eadmer wrote, antiSemitism was rising in the charged atmosphere of the First Crusade, and the charge of being too close to the Jews may simply have been convenient. Whatever the king’s personal feelings about religion, he would certainly have wished to protect rich townsmen. William of Malmesbury’s Gesta

Regum Anglorum composed in the early twelfth century also reported the incident at Rouen, and a second in London when the king encouraged Jews to debate with Christians and said that if they prevailed he himself would

convert.57 Guibert of Nogent in his Autobiography also mentions the Rouen Jews being herded into a church and given the choice of conversion to Christianity or death.58 By the date of the 1130 pipe roll, which recorded annual returns at the exchequer, the London community was extremely wealthy. Under the heading ‘New Pleas and Agreements’ of London they accounted for two thousand pounds ‘for a sick man whom they killed’, almost four times the figure for annual revenue from the king’s rights in London and Middlesex.59 There is no information about the background to this entry, so it must be presumed that this was simply a pretext for committing the community to pay a huge sum, admittedly over time. In another entry, Jacob the Jew and his wife made a proffer of sixty silver marks (forty pounds) for a plea between themselves and the abbot of Westminster.60 There are three other entries in which the Jews made proffers so that the king would aid them in the recovery of their debts from Richard FitzGilbert, Ranulf, Earl of Chester and a man named Osbert.61 Richard and Ranulf were two of the wealthiest magnates in the country, and Osbert may have been Osbert of Leicester, an officer of Robert, Earl of Leicester.62 In other words, the Jews were already lending to members of the aristocracy. The king’s protection and backing in debt recovery helped them to prosper.63 Alongside their wealth went scholarly rejection

of

their

beliefs.

Abbot

Gilbert

Crispin

of

Westminster (1083–1118) wrote a treatise on the subject,

and it seems that this influenced his friend, Archbishop Anselm, in formulating his treatise in defence of the Incarnation, the Cur Deus Homo.64 In southern Italy and Sicily there were well-established Jewish communities in the cities at the time of the Normans’ arrival.65 There were rabbis, religious scholars, doctors, merchants, and landowners. In north and central Apulia they spoke Latin, in southern Calabria, Greek. No great problem between Greeks and Jews were reported, though Jews were excluded from the higher ranks of Byzantine administration. This situation did not change after the Norman takeover. Jews were initially taken under ducal protection, but then sometimes transferred to that of the local archbishop.66 There were Jews living in the Near East under Muslim rule at the time of the First Crusade but not, apparently, many. The traveller Benjamin of Tudela writing in the 1160s reported small communities, the largest

being

at

Damascus.67

Again

their

presence

continued under the new crusading lords. What did change was the ramping up of rhetoric against Jews and Muslims in Western authors writing about the First Crusade, justifying what they saw as a holy war. This was most pronounced in Guibert of Nogent’s Dei gesta per Francos.68 Normans in mainland Italy, Sicily and Antioch came into contact with large numbers of Muslims serving, for instance, in the armies of Count Roger the Great at Capua in 1098.69 After the conquest of Sicily some mosques, such

as that at Palermo, were converted into churches.70 Sometimes, as towns and strongholds fell to the Normans, captives were enslaved.71 It seems that the usual practice was to allow the Muslims to be ruled by their own customs, providing that tribute was paid.72 In the time of the first king, Roger II, documents were issued in Arabic as well as Latin, and Arab workmen were employed in great building projects.73 In the Holy Land Arabs were the visible enemy, the occupiers of the great cities like Antioch and Jerusalem and enemies in the field, but many of the local people were Christians of one kind or another. References to the conversion of Jews, whether pressured or voluntary, have been noted above. The same question of conversion comes up with Muslims. Archbishop Anselm of Canterbury was reported as offering to convert the Muslims in Count Roger’s army at Capua in 1098, only to be told that this had been prohibited by the count.74 In Sicily there are no reports of mass conversions. Chamut, the ruler of Agrigento and Castrogiovanni, was persuaded to convert to Christianity with his wife and children on condition, it was said, that he would not be deprived of his wife. When Castrogiovanni surrendered to Count Roger, Chamut was assigned land on the mainland near Mileto.75 The only major incident of conversion on the First Crusade occurred

at

Antioch

where

Firuz,

who

admitted

Bohemond’s men into the city, is reported by some authors as having been converted. The story appears in the Gesta

Francorum but, as has been pointed out recently, was toned down in other chronicles.76 Attitudes to non-Christians, both Jews and Muslims, were changing in the last years of the eleventh century and the first years of the twelfth. There were riots against Jewish communities in the Rhineland in the run-up to the First Crusade.77 Ideas about Islam and Muslims, as warriors against whom the Crusaders were fighting, came in for discussion. In 1095 Pope Urban at Clermont was said to have described the ‘race of Persians’ as a people rejected by God.78 In the Chanson de Roland, thought to date from roughly the same period, the Muslims of Spain were portrayed as warriors, capable of both good and bad. Of the Turks at Dorylaeum, the anonymous author of the

Gesta Francorum wrote that they were brave and skilled warriors,

and

had

they

been

prepared

to

accept

Christianity there would have been none to excel them, but by God’s grace, they were beaten ‘by our men’.79 At Antioch the Turks were described as ‘enemies of God and Christendom’.80 Ralph of Caen described the silver image in the Temple of Solomon which Tancred identified as Mohammed, the first antichrist.81 Of the early historians of the First Crusade, Guibert of Nogent most strongly identified Islam with heresy.82 One of the features of the eleventh and twelfth centuries was a growing awareness of the ‘other’ in terms of religion.83 Bob Moore described this as ‘the formation of a

persecuting society’.84 The tenets of Latin Christianity came to be more closely defined, and this meant in turn more attention was given to those holding unorthodox beliefs, and to non-Christians. The Norman conquest of Sicily

was

at

the

expense

of

Muslims,

and

their

strengthening of Latin Christianity at the expense of the Orthodox church. Yet in pragmatic terms Greeks and Muslims were left alone in the early years, so long as they paid tribute. Similarly Jewish communities do not seem to have experienced any particular difficulties in Italy or indeed in England before the First Crusade, when the atmosphere undoubtedly became more problematic. The fact was that in southern Italy, Sicily and the Near East the new Norman lords had to co-exist with Jewish and Muslim communities. In the Regno it seems that for a time the communities were allowed to govern their own affairs, providing

they

contributed

to

the

ruler’s

finances.85

However, in the longer term the position of Muslims deteriorated until the remnant was deported to the mainland in the thirteenth century. They experienced the transfer of estates to Latin Christian Churches, and they were subjected to the tribute which earlier they had levied on non-Muslims. Although Muslims were able to serve Roger II as soldiers, administrators, architects and artists in the new kingdom, by the middle of the twelfth century conditions were such that they were ripe for rebellion.86

What were relations like between the Crusaders and the inhabitants of the lands they conquered in the Near East? In the past it was suggested that a kind of apartheid operated, and that the Crusaders lived behind the walls of the castles, leaving the countryside to the local Muslim population.87 This view, which was based on work on the kingdom of Jerusalem, was subjected to criticism as rural settlements

were

discovered

within

the

kingdom.88

Moreover, the idea that conditions in all four of the principalities were the same does not necessarily hold good.89 The principality of Antioch, for instance, was in effect a northern outpost of the Crusader states where the fight to gain and to keep territory might have made the rulers keep local communities at arms’ length. Andrew Buck, who has surveyed the evidence recently, has been cautious about concluding from the limited evidence available either that interaction was generally harmonious or otherwise.90 The discussion in the foregoing paragraphs has treated relations between ethnicities and religions as if these were discrete categories, but these intersect with other social categories such as class and gender, and none were fixed.91 In this context Orderic’s story of Melaz, the Dānishmend princess who was supposed to have helped Bohemond to freedom from captivity, is highly relevant. This, it used to be assumed, was simply fictional, but Simon Yarrow has pointed out that it was treated by Orderic as a literary

device to demonstrate the power of conversion. Melaz converted to Christianity and persuaded her father to free Bohemond. Although she was offered to him as a bride Bohemond did not marry her himself but handed her over instead to his kinsman, Roger of Salerno.92 Liturgical Music There was no uniformity in chants used in the Latin church in the eleventh century. Monasteries had their own traditions, which sometimes influenced other houses. In England the arrival of Norman abbots often brought change and in at least one case music proved to be a flashpoint.

At

Glastonbury

in

1083

Abbot

Thurstan,

previously a monk at St Stephen’s Caen, wanted monks to learn a new chant, likely to have been one he had known at Caen, and not that in use in their community. When they refused, he called in armed men who pursued the monks into the abbey church, killing two and wounding fourteen others.93 This was the most dramatic recorded incident of trouble involving a Norman abbot, and music evidently hit a raw nerve.94 Cantors at cathedral and monastic churches who were responsible for the music would have had to adapt to change.. One example highlighted by David Hiley was the Kyrie, which was radically transformed. Other elements of the mass were changed or omitted, so in terms of music the effects of the Conquest were drastic.95 The use of Benevento and Montecassino was very different from those employed in Normandy.96 In 1058 Pope

Stephen IX, who had been abbot of Montecassino, visited the abbey and forbade the use of the old ‘Ambrosian’ chant which must have seemed to him very old-fashioned.97 There is no indication that change here brought the kind of conflict seen at Glastonbury, and a valuable study of what have

been

described

as

‘neo-Gregorian’

chants

in

Beneventan manuscripts shows how new chants were devised

drawing

on

different

existing

traditions,

Beneventan, Gregorian, Byzantine and so on. Old and new thus intermingled.98 The study of liturgical manuscripts has proved to be illuminating in showing patterns and connections across Europe and the Near East. The practices of different Norman communities spread to Britain, to Sicily, and, it would seem, to the Holy Land.99 Liturgists made choices, sometimes

with

tragic

results,

as

at

Glastonbury.

Sometimes, however, traditions proved too strong as, for instance, at Benevento, where no Norman influence has been detected.100 On the other hand, in the Near East newly appointed Latin clergy had to make use of the manuscripts available, whether, it seems, they came from Normandy or from Chartres.101 Language and Literature Many

in

medieval

Europe

needed

to

be

able

to

communicate in more than one language. Even those who did not travel encountered strangers speaking foreign languages. Languages were fluid and evolving, and many

people probably had functional knowledge of several. However, there was also a question of the status of language, and the medium, speech or writing, in which it was expressed. For churchmen it was Latin.102 For those most closely associated with Norman elites, we can assume it was French. At the court of the rulers of southern Italy, it seems French was spoken until the middle of the twelfth century.103 In England many in towns and cities that traded with France before 1066 would have had a working knowledge of Old French and inevitably the number would rise subsequently.104 Orderic wrote that William the Conqueror tried to learn English so that he would be able to understand what the English said in court, but was too old to do so, and had other preoccupations.105 The story perhaps reflects the image the author was trying to project of a good king rather than reality. Brictric, the priest of Haselbury in Wiltshire in the early twelfth century, complained that he was unable to speak French in the presence

of

the

archdeacon.106

Interpreters

were

necessary and of those mentioned in Domesday Book as holding land, some were English and others French.107 Churchmen certainly had to be able to communicate with Christians speaking their own language, even if they spoke to each other either in French or Latin. On Crusade and in the Near East the newcomers, themselves a motley bunch, encountered several different

languages.108 In the same passage in which Fulcher of Chartres mentioned intermarriage he added that people were using words from different languages: ‘words of different languages have become common property’.109 Dragomans or interpreters were needed for communication between the Crusaders, Seljuks and Fatimids.110 The Fatimids, for instance, sent fifteen interpreters to Antioch proposing an alliance with the Crusaders against the Seljuks.111 Bohemond had an interpreter in his household, a Lombard, who negotiated with Firuz in Greek about letting the Crusaders into the city.112 Peter the Hermit negotiated with Kerbogha using interpreters.113 Anna Comnena wrote in detail about negotiations between Bohemond and Alexios Comnenos at Devol during which Bohemond demanded that hostages be sent. Her father, she tells us, chose Marinus, from Naples, a Frank named Roger, Constantine Euphorbenus, and a fourth Adralestos, who ‘understood the Keltic language’.114 Again, we can assume that at Antioch the predominantly southern Italian rulers would have spoken Old French amongst themselves, but they were simply too few in number to impose their language on the territories they conquered. As time went on, the form of Old French spoken by Norman emigrants was inevitably affected by time and distance from Normandy.115 In England the difference between the French spoken there and in France was the subject of comment by the later twelfth century. The nun

who composed a French version of the Life of Edward the Confessor, possibly in the 1160s, apologized for her poor French.116 A little later in date Walter Map commented on the

‘French

of

Marlborough’

spoken

by

Geoffrey

Plantagenet.117 Gervase of Tilbury, also in the later twelfth century, explaining Harold Godwinson’s trip to Normandy, explained that the English sent their sons abroad to learn arms

and

to

‘remove

the

barbarity

of

their

native

tongue’.118 The choice of written language, too, reflects status and concerns about legitimacy and audience. In southern Italy Latin was the medium used at the great monastic centres for liturgical texts, chronicles, annals and hagiography. The chronicles of Amatus of Montecassino, Geoffrey Malaterra, William of Apulia, and Leo Marsicanus were originally composed in Latin. It was also the language of charters in the Lombard principalities, such as the great archive of the abbey of La Trinità at Cava.119 On the other hand, Greek and Arabic were also used in written documents, the latter in Sicily. This pluralism continued after the Norman takeover. The charters of Roger I and Roger II were issued in both Latin and Greek, and in some cases incorporated Arabic estate boundaries or lists of peasants.120 The Assizes of Ariano and the Catalogus Baronum, on the other hand, survive as Latin texts.121 After Roger II became king, more documents were issued in Arabic, but it has been argued that this derived from Fatimid Egypt rather than

pre-Norman Sicily.122 Moreover, the establishment of the kingdom did not bring the composition of works in Greek and Arabic to an end. Liturgical, hagiographical, and poetic works continued to be composed in Greek.123 Ibn al-Athīr wrote a summation of history in the mid-twelfth century, Abû ‘Abdallâh al-Idrīsī a geographical treatise, and there are several surviving Arabic poems both celebrating and denouncing the Normans.124 Above all it was in the kingdom that there was the greatest potential for cross-fertilization. The authors of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic texts could draw on different traditions. The most striking examples of crossfertilization occur later, under Roger II. He was the dedicatee of the Arabic geographical treatise of Abû ‘Abdallâh

al-Idrīsī.125

The

illustrated

version

of

the

chronicle of John Skylitzes which survives at Madrid is thought to have been produced in Sicily, and it has been suggested that it reinterpreted Byzantine history in a way which would have suited King Roger.126 It has also been argued that the Sicilian tari or gold coin produced under the Norman rulers provides an illustration of culturallinguistic complexity, as, under Roger II and his successors, it included Muslim and Christian, Arabic, and Greek elements.127 In England at the time of the Conquest both Latin and English were written languages in the church and in royal governance.128 The usage of both was affected by the

coming of the Normans. There was a strong demand for Latin texts to supply monastic and cathedral libraries. Norman ecclesiastics sent to Normandy for the Latin texts they needed to fill what they saw as gaps on the library shelves.129 English had been used for law-codes, for administrative documents and for writs, but after 1066 the language of royal writs soon changed from English to Latin. The great Domesday inquest of 1086 was particularly significant in this respect: oral and written evidence was given in French or English, but the final record was in Latin, with odd words for which there was no Latin equivalent given Latin endings, such as bordarii (bordiers, bordars) and cotarii (cottiers, cottars).130 The West Saxon form of the vernacular had the greatest prestige, as it was associated with the ruling dynasty. A good deal of vernacular writing continued as is now appreciated.131 The tradition

of

writing

annals

in

English

continued

at

Peterborough abbey until 1154, however, over time the West Saxon version of old English lost prestige. In the twelfth century there were different regional usages which evolved in turn into Middle English. One famous manuscript originating from Christ Church Canterbury in the mid-twelfth century illustrates the plurality of languages at that time: the Eadwine Psalter. It consisted of an early twelfth-century kalendar, and three versions of the psalms in Latin, laid out in three columns on each page: the Gallicanum, the version most commonly

used and accorded the largest script size accompanied by an exegetical gloss; the Romanum, a version which had been popular in Anglo-Saxon England especially at Christ Church

Canterbury;

and

the

Hebraicum,

Jerome’s

translation from the Hebrew Bible. The Romanum had an English translation interlined, and the Hebraicum an Old French translation. The Psalter was modelled on an earlier text, known as the Utrecht Psalter, which contained line drawings. The Eadwine Psalter also included a cycle of illuminations, a portrait of the monk Eadwine and a plan of the cathedral monastery at Canterbury.132 It seems that the psalter was composed at Christ Church at some point in the middle years of the twelfth century and there has been some debate about its purpose. Gibson suggested that it was a text for teaching and learning, whereas Treharne stressed that its expense and size militated against it being carried about. Rather, she thinks, it was intended as a statement about the culture and perhaps the wealth of the community, a project to be compared with the deluxe bibles of the twelfth century. Perhaps equally as important is the point made by Cecily Clark, that the scribe responsible for the old English translation often used Kentish words (‘a Kentish overlay on a traditional text’), showing that knowledge of the West Saxon dialect was declining, even at Canterbury.133 French was widely used in royal government. In Latin texts such as the pipe rolls scribes Latinized French

words.134 The language of pleading in law courts was Old French.135 It has been argued that England played a crucial role as the context in which French literature developed, and that patronage was a crucial factor.136 Ian Short argued that key to this was multi-lingualism which ‘not only facilitated

but

actively

encouraged

the

symbiosis

of

cultures in contact’.137 He drew attention to a list of ‘firsts’ in Old French which originated in twelfth-century AngloEngland.138 These included: the first eye witness report of contemporary events was that by Jordan Fantosme;139 the earliest scientific reports;140 the first translation of the psalter into French;141 the earliest translation of the Hospitallers’

rule;142

the

first

occurrence

of

French

octosyllabic rhyming couplet in Beneit’s Voyage of St

Brendan;143 the first explicit mention of courtoisie, by Geoffrey Gaimar, who wrote the first history of the English in Old French in the 1130s;144 and the first named woman writer in French, Clemence of Barking.145 Philip de Thaon translated the Latin bestiary into Old French.146 Saints’ lives and devotional texts were composed in Old French, for instance, a version of the Vie de Saint Alexis was included in the St Albans Psalter.147 Monastic communities, both for men and women, evidently were sources of much of the devotional writing.148 Ian Short stressed, too, the importance of patronage by royal and noble patrons, as well as the number of polyglot authors as key to this precocious development.149

In the Near East the plurality of spoken languages was reflected in the diversity of written sources. Latin was used for the crusading chronicles composed in the principality by Ralph of Caen and Walter the Chancellor, for sermons, and for charters.150 The chroniclers presumably drew on oral traditions and songs about the early Crusades. French was the language of court circles, and, for instance, for the early thirteenth-century record of legal customs, the

Assises d’Antioche. Eventually the form of French in the crusading world developed its own distinct characteristics, the French of Outremer – the Latin East.151 There was certainly a good deal of contact between natives and newcomers.152 How frequently this translated into literary cross-fertilization is impossible to judge.153 Laws In Chapter Seven the role of Norman princes in upholding justice was discussed. Here the focus shifts to law. The idea that peoples were to be governed by their own laws was widespread, but obviously solutions had to be found for disputes between Normans and those they ruled. As Normans moved out of Normandy they took their own customs, which owed much to the Carolingians, with them and governed internal disputes. Conquered peoples could keep their own customs, but disputes that cut across ethnicities, and new areas of dispute, were a different matter. In all three theatres we can see conquered peoples continued to live under their own customs, but change did

come, most significantly in England where the newcomers were most numerous and dominant. Southern Italy was a patchwork of laws and customs. Some regions broadly followed Roman law and others Lombard, with local variants.154 Muslim Sicily was under Islamic law. Laws of the Latin church differed from those of the eastern church which, it has been demonstrated, were followed in Greek monasteries in the twelfth century.155 The Normans were too few to abolish local customs even had they wanted to; Malaterra, for example, specifically stated that on the conquest of Palermo the citizens were allowed to keep their own laws.156 A recent case study of Roger II’s charter for the citizens of Bari illustrates well how negotiation between the new king and the citizens of this independently minded city worked.157 A major development occurred under Roger II with the text known as the Assizes of Ariano, probably issued over several years, which aimed to supplement local customs.158 We have already noted that one of the topics they covered was marriage (see above, p. 178). They also dealt with the rights of the crown: property (IV); public officials (XXV, XXXV); judges who neglected their duty (XLIV); forgers and forgery (XX, XXII, XXIII); coining money (XXI); and treason (XVIII). Secondly, they dealt with the church and Christian religion: the sale of relics (V); rights of sanctuary (VI); the testimony of bishops in court cases (VIII); banning serfs from becoming clerics (X); the rape of nuns (XI); Jews or

pagans with Christian servants (XII); apostates (XIII); candidates for the priesthood (XVI); punishments for sacrilege (XVII); and jesters who wore the vestments of nuns (XIV). Thirdly, there were provisions about family, sexual behaviour, and status: wills (XXIV); adultery (XXVIII, XXIX,

XXXII,

physicians

XXXIII);

(XXXVI);

pimping

(XXX);

condemning

licensing

those

who

of

made

themselves knights (XIX); fines for those who forcibly removed someone’s beard (XXXIV); and for selling someone into slavery (XXXVII). Finally, there were regulations relating to those who killed robbers (XXXVIII) or thieves (XL), the innocence of children or madmen who killed (XXXIX) and those who killed by hurling rocks (XLII) or by using poison (XLIII). The situation in England was very different. In 1066 there were customary laws, but royal justice was already far-reaching, and after 1066 its scope continued to extend.159 Underpinning King William’s claim to be the legitimate successor of his kinsman, King Edward, was the idea that he was ruling according to the ‘law of King Edward’.160 Such was the nature of law and lawmaking that there was no overall code such as that of the Emperor Justinian. In fact the last king to have issued laws before 1066 was Cnut. A king could lay down new law and, as far as we know, there was no regular procedure for its publication.

King

William

himself

made

legislative

decisions, such as the use of trial by battle, as did Henry I,

and these had then to be fed into the body of legal knowledge. The text known as the ‘Ten Articles’ possibly represents an authentic record of William’s legislation.161 So, the question of what the law actually was, given the parallel existence of customary law and law of the church, was complex and contentious when administered by an alien ruling class. In this context, then, it is not surprising that written collections were needed. One great collection was made at Rochester, the Textus Roffensis, between 1122 and 1124. This was a collection of texts in English from the time of King Æthelbert of Kent down to Henry I’s Coronation Charter (in Latin). It was followed by a cartulary (in Latin) of Rochester cathedral priory,162 and provided the bishop and chapter with both a legal handbook and a record of endowments. A key issue was that of language. Many Anglo-Saxon laws survived in vernacular texts and used words with which the Normans were unfamiliar, so there was an obvious need for translation. One major compendium was the Quadripartitus, a collection of Anglo-Saxon laws translated into Latin, thought to have been composed in the early twelfth century, and possibly by the same author as that of the Leges Henrici Primi.163 The author of the

Quadripartitus wrote two prefaces: one gives a very clear impression of the evils of contemporary society and the maladministration of justice in his own day, and the other gives a much more upbeat assessment about the laws of

Cnut confirmed by his successors and about the glorious reign of Henry I.164 More

texts

were

produced:

the

Leges

Edwardi

Confessoris, the Instituta Cnuti (by 1123, but possibly late in the Conqueror’s reign), the Consiliatio Cnuti and the

Pseudo Cnut de Foresta.165 The Leges Edwardi Confessoris are thought to have been composed in the early years of Stephen’s reign, possibly at Lincoln or London.166 The

Consiliatio Cnuti comprised translations from Cnut’s laws with extracts from older laws.167 One interesting text is the French Leis Willelme which is in three parts: the first is composed of laws of King William, the second, excerpts from Roman law, and third was excerpts from Cnut’s code.168 The Pseudo Cnut de Foresta came later, dating possibly from the 1180s. As its name indicates, it purported to be a pre-Conquest code of forest law and was distinguished by the inclusion of Anglo-Norse terms.169 As Bruce O’Brien has argued, the context shifted, as these laws were seen as encapsulating the concept of kings choosing to rule according to law.170 In the principality of Antioch too the newcomers had their own legal customs, written down in French in the early thirteenth century.171 The text is in two sections, the first of which deals with customs relating to those who held their land in return for service as a knight, and the second with the law of townspeople. The first deals with the obligations of lords and men, especially the obligation to

provide military service, arrangements for widows and minors, and inheritance by women.172 These were only the customs which applied within the lay elite, and many legal disputes involved the Latin churches and churchmen. Notaries were used for such cases, the earliest discovered so far mentioned in 1126.173 What, however, of the other religions? It seems likely that non-Latin Christians, Jews and Muslims were allowed to regulate their own internal affairs, though there is little explicit evidence on this point.174 In the late eleventh and twelfth centuries knowledge of Arabic scholarship, especially in the fields of astronomy, mathematics and medicine began to spread in the Christian West via a handful of key individuals.175 Astronomy and astrology were valued in their own terms, but also because of the possibilities they offered for predicting the future. Petrus Alfonsi was a Jew from Huesca in northern Spain who converted to Christianity in 1106.176 He travelled to England and France, and for some years was a physician of Henry I.177 He was responsible for a translation into Latin of the Lunar tables of al-Khwārizmī,178 was the author of a set of lunar tables calculated with an astrolabe from an eclipse witnessed in 1092, and of ‘The Opinion of Peter the Hebrew (Alfonsi) Concerning the Dragon’. This was related to the occasions when the moon’s orbit crosses that of the sun (represented in Indian and Arabic astronomy as the

head and tail of a dragon) and was translated into Latin by Walcher prior of Malvern.179 Walcher is thought to have been a Lotharingian by origin.180 How and when he arrived in England is not certain, and there are few recorded facts about his career. He was alive in 1125, but is thought to have died in 1135. Malvern,

where

he

was

prior,

had

originated

as

a

settlement of hermits, and then became a priory founded on land belonging to Westminster Abbey. Walcher would have been concerned with computistics for calculating dates, and he was also in the orbit of Robert the Lotharingian, Bishop of Hereford (1079–95), who had been educated at the cathedral of Liège and may have been invited to England by William the Conqueror;181 he too was interested in mathematics and computistics. Adelard of Bath was another scholar who was interested in Arab arithmetic.182 He is thought to have been the son of Fastrad, an under-tenant of the bishop of Bath in 1086. He may have travelled to Tours, and is said to have played the cithara in front of a queen, probably Bertrada de Montfort, queen of France.183 In his writings he mentions travelling to Laon where he spent seven years ‘studying the Arabs’, a visit to Salerno, and his travels in Apulia where he met a Greek philosopher. He dedicated one work to William, Bishop of Syracuse (1105–24). He returned to England and in 1130 was pardoned 4s. 6d. danegeld, a sign of some kind of connection with the royal court.184 Amongst his works

was one on cosmology, De Opere Astrolapsus, in which he refers

to

his

Arab

masters.

Elements,

the

rules

of

He

translated

al-Khwārismī,

Abu

Euclid’s Ma’shar’s

Abbreviation of the Introduction to Astrology, a set of astrological aphorisms, and a text on how to make astrological talismans. He gained a reputation as a mathematician, and is historically important because as well as studying Greek science he also studied Arabic texts, possibly via the works of Petrus Alfonsi rather than from the original.185 Antioch was an important point of contact between Arabic and Latin culture, and it has been suggested that from here knowledge of Arabic science may have been transmitted to the west.186 Adelard of Bath is known to have visited,187 and the translator, Stephen of Pisa, was also

working

computistics

there were

at

time.188

the

studied

in

Astronomy

monastic

and

communities.

Astrology, with its promise of prediction of the future, was more widely popular. Kings like Henry I wanted predictions of auspicious dates, and could afford to support scholars with the necessary skills. In the mid-twelfth century Henry Aristippus was a leading figure at the Sicilian court for the translation of classical texts into Latin. Michael Angold has argued that this was a particular moment in the history of the Sicilian kingdom under William I when the Latin element became dominant and translation into Latin, especially texts which

could

boost

important.189

the A

image Latin

of

kingship,

translation

was

became also

more

made

of

Ptolemy’s Almagest, an astronomical text, knowledge of which helped to transform medical studies at Salerno. Other translations included book four of Aristotle’s Meteora from Greek and Ptolemy’s Optics from Latin.

Medicine There was a wide spectrum of medical theory and practice in eleventh-century Europe. What we would call academic medicine

was

in

effect

a

branch

of

philosophy.

Understanding how body and soul worked together was central, an approach which might well be sympathetically regarded today. Those who practised medicine might or might not be expert in philosophical ideas. Healing was practised by a whole range of people with different skills. Susan Edgington has studied medicine in the Crusader states and suggests that whilst the westerners probably brought surgeons with them who could deal with battlefield wounds, those who settled would have consulted local physicians.190 The Arabs certainly believed that their medical skills were more advanced than those of the Franks. This was certainly the case of Usama bin Munqidh of Shaizar whose writings, even if taken with a pinch of salt, illustrated his belief in the superiority of Arabic medicine.191 By the eleventh century the school at Salerno had already developed a reputation for medical study.192

Constantine the African, whose name suggests he came from north Africa, was resident first at Salerno, then becoming a monk at Montecassino around 1077. His work in translating from the Arabic Pantegni and Viaticum and from the Greek Hippocrates’s Aphorisms and Prognostica into Latin played a fundamentally important part in a process by which a core body of medical knowledge was established, adding to the practical skills for which Salerno was

already

disseminated

famous.193 by

Medical

individuals,

knowledge

especially

was

members

of

monastic communities. Elmer Brenner has shown how, for instance, the abbey of Bury St Edmunds had copies of medical manuscripts.194 The case can be made, therefore, that greater contacts between northern and southern Europe facilitated by the Normans helped to disseminate medical knowledge from the classical and Arab worlds. Treating the long-term sick presented a particular challenge. Medieval monasteries had cared for members of their own communities, but there was a growing need to provide care in towns and cities for both local people and travellers,

so

increasing

numbers

of

hospitals

were

founded. One early example was the hospital established at Jerusalem by merchants from Amalfi and Salerno, which developed into the great crusading order, the Knights Hospitaller.195 Medieval hospitals were more like hospices than modern hospitals, and they were conceived as religious foundations, with priests to care for the soul.196

Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, the first post-Conquest archbishop, founded St John’s hospital in Canterbury and a leper house at Harbledown outside the city.197 Leper houses were a specialist form of hospital, founded to care for the growing numbers of lepers suffering from a disease already present in western Europe in the early Middle Ages but which was becoming prevalent. The earliest leper hospital in England is thought to have predated the Norman Conquest, but more were founded in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries.198 Dress and Appearance We know much less about changes in appearance and lifestyle than about the kinds of encounters visible in the written record. The Bayeux Tapestry is a unique source which has been trawled for information about dress and hair, for instance. The Normans are shown as clean-shaven, with hair short at the back, whilst the English have moustaches and ungartered stockings. Both wore short robes, the Normans possibly having divided skirts, or culottes.199 That the English wore their hair long was noted by

William

of

Poitiers,

who

wrote

of

the

Normans

wondering at the Englishmen whom William had taken back to Normandy with him in 1067.200 In the Near East, Crusaders would have encountered men, both Muslims and Orthodox clergy, more commonly bearded than they were. Facial hair, dress and headwear were all signifiers of status, religion, occupation and gender.201

The

English

then

were

distinguishable

by

their

moustaches, and it seems that they also liked tattoos and arm-rings, according to William of Malmesbury.202 How long did such visible distinctions last? Orderic Vitalis wrote of the English, who had seemed contemptible to the Normans in their native dress, ‘completely changed by foreign fashion’.203 Orderic was of course writing later and enthusing about the English and Normans living peacefully together. It is easy to imagine that the English would have chosen to copy the Normans in dress. The sources remain silent on whether they continued to sport tattoos and armrings, the latter being both ornament and tradable wealth in the Scandinavian world. Arm-rings still figure in the coronation regalia of English kings, but we simply do not know how long men continued to wear them. The spread of coined money and its use to pay knights may have been a factor in changing fashion. We know that a fashion for long hair for men spread to the courts of William Rufus and Henry I, because of the scandalized comments of chroniclers, who saw this as a symptom of moral degradation.204 At Easter 1105 the bishop of Sées, preaching at Carentan before the king and his court, denounced the evils of long hair which, he said, made men look like women, and beards which made them look like billy goats. He produced scissors and proceeded to cut the hair of Henry and his knights.205 So fashions did change and we even read of men’s shoes with such

exaggerated points that they had to be tied back.206 It seems, too, that high-status women in early twelfth-century England may have bound their breasts to achieve a smoother outline. Marbod of Rennes commented that Queen Matilda, Henry’s first wife, did not do this.207 It is easy to surmise that as the Normans moved into hotter climates, in Sicily and the Near East, they opted for light-weight clothing.208 However, there were potential problems about Franks and others wearing similar dress. At the Council of Nablus in 1120 non-Christians were specifically forbidden to wear Frankish dress.209 Muslims and Jews were expected to be readily identifiable: dress was thus also a marker of religion.210 New wealth of course opened up new possibilities for display. Again, William of Poitiers’s description of Easter at Fécamp referred to the admiration of those present at the rich robes of the king and his courtiers, ‘woven and encrusted with gold’.211 Cloth of gold together with silk were the most luxurious materials, and were now available through conquest. We know, for instance, of the lavish gifts of vestments and church hangings made by Robert Guiscard to Montecassino.212 The mantle of Roger II survives. It is made of red silk, embroidered with gold thread, embellished with enamels, gems, and pearls. There is an Arabic inscription along the curved edge: ‘This was made in the most royal, flourishing wardrobe, with good fortune, magnificence, splendour,

perfection,

might,

superiority,

generosity,

prosperity,

propitious fate, dignity, glory, beauty, attainment of desires and hopes, pleasure of days and nights without end or removal,

with

power,

declaration

of

faith,

vigilance,

protection, good fortune, security, victory and capability, in the (capital) city of Sicily, in the year five hundred and twenty-eight’.213 This, it has been suggested, may have been used for the investiture of Roger’s sons, Roger and Tancred.214 Norman rulers may well have preferred to adopt the dress of their predecessors to emphasize their legitimacy. Roger II in particular was portrayed as a Byzantine ruler in the mosaic in the Martorana church and as an Islamic king on the painted ceiling of the Cappella Palatina in Palermo.215 Diet was another marker of difference. The Normans in Italy were said to have sent home citrus fruit, almonds and other nuts, purple cloth and gold inlaid instruments to show their kin that they had reached a land flowing with riches.216 They also now had easier access to cane sugar, as did the Crusaders.217 Wealth brought the possibility of a more varied and even exotic diet. There has been some debate about the introduction of new species to England after 1066, notably rabbits and fallow deer, though it is obviously difficult to relate this precisely to political events. It seems that the Normans may have had a greater liking for pork than the English, and it has recently been suggested that they used different techniques for preparing

meat.218 In the crusading states the Frankish lords would have eaten pork, unlike the Muslims. New lords wanted to protect the most valuable species of game from the peasants. This was happening in Normandy by the end of the tenth century, as one of the complaints of the peasants’ revolt was against the restriction of their customary rights of access to woods and water.219 The rights of the prince as opposed to his nobles came to be drawn up differently: in Normandy and southern Italy and, it seems, in preConquest England, the ruler and the nobles had their own reserves. In Norman England the king exercised monopoly rights over a much wider area. Exotic species provided at feasts that brought people together were a sign of increasing wealth.220 As well as hospitality and display, they were also occasions for underscoring

status

and

hierarchy.

Gaimar’s

lengthy

description of the inaugural feast in William Rufus’s great hall at Westminster highlighted the hundreds of splendidly apparelled ushers with wands of office. They conducted barons up the stairs, ensured they were not approached by grooms and escorted those who brought in the food and drink. The king heard mass in the company of his barons. Four earls carried swords before the king (Hugh of Chester objected) and Rufus then formally knighted thirty young men who had had their hair cut short before the ceremony. Although they were first to do so, when the king approved, others were moved to follow suit.221

This chapter has covered a wide field of interactions between Normans and those over whom they ruled, and there are no simple conclusions. Like all migrants, they intermarried with native inhabitants and adopted aspects of their way of life. Wealth was arguably the key determinant in clothing and personal ornaments, rather than tradition. Openness to new ideas as opposed to retention of the customs of one’s homeland depends on the circumstances of migration and the numbers involved as well as temperament. What is clear is that the impact of the coming of the Normans was greatest in England because of the numbers involved and their stranglehold over the upper echelons of English society. Their names, language and customary laws set them apart from the English, and the processes of accommodation and assimilation were protracted and regionally varied.222 In Italy the Normans made less impact: there were simply fewer of them. More of the existing Lombard lords, Greeks and, in Sicily, Muslims, remained in place. In the principality of Antioch the Normans formed an even thinner top layer ruling a diverse and often hostile population. It could be argued that the reasons for the Normans to live according to their own customs, and apart from the native population were strongest here. On the other hand, it has been suggested that their small number made it all the more important to interact with different groups.

CHAPTER TEN

BUILDINGS also a period of great T building, and it is important was to understand how far the HE ERA OF NORMAN CONQUESTS

two developments were linked. In a very direct way buildings raise the issue of Norman identity, whether there was a single distinctive Norman form of secular and ecclesiastical buildings which the Normans took with them, perhaps resonating with their places of origin, or as a means of projecting their authority.1 Function and use of space

were

of

paramount

importance,

but

other

considerations, such as the tastes of the patron – male or female, secular or ecclesiastic – finance, display or discretion, and the sourcing of materials and craftsmen, came into play. Response to the buildings has also to be borne in mind. The White Tower of the Tower of London, for instance, remains an impressive feature, especially from the river Thames, and it is difficult to believe it would have been seen other than as intimidating and a symbol of power.2 The stone was brought from Caen in Normandy, a visible reminder of a new regime. At the abbey church of St Albans, in contrast, extensive use was made of Roman brick, for reasons of availability rather than recycling.3 Looking back to the Roman past was one way of suggesting a transfer of empire, of underscoring the legitimacy of the present regime, rather than as an exercise in nostalgia.4

Today architectural styles evoke strong reactions: many prefer buildings which recreate past styles, such as classical or gothic; others prefer the shock of the new. We have to be sensitive to eleventh-century attitudes to change, to the pulling down of all the major churches in England, for instance, or the conversion of mosques into Christian churches in Sicily at Palermo and Catania, and at Jerusalem where the Dome of the Rock was handed over to the Augustinians. Material on archaeological sites and standing buildings is uneven5 and many sites were built over in succeeding centuries. In Italy some have been affected by earthquakes, whilst in the Near East others are inaccessible for security reasons. In Britain and Italy many castle sites await investigation.

Bishops’

palaces

were

often

massively

rebuilt, obscuring eleventh-century structures. There are studies of many cathedrals and abbey churches in Italy and England,

but

the

great

cathedral

at

Antioch

has

disappeared. As documentary evidence is often sparse, dating

buildings

is

not

always

straightforward.

For

instance, the assumption that stone towers in England must necessarily postdate 1066 has been shown to be shaky. Dating of churches based on style can also be tricky, given that buildings could be avant-garde or conservative,6 and the

various

influences

can

be

difficult

to

identify.

Westminster Abbey, for instance, is very like the abbey church at Jumièges, but it is not clear which came first.

Moreover, the resulting buildings are complex. Architects and patrons of churches looked to different models, competed with their neighbours, and engaged with local tradition and workmanship, producing buildings which were in fact hybrid.7 There have been new approaches to the study of buildings. Greater attention is now given to castles as culturally normative, a sign of lordly status, and to their landscape setting. The allocation of space between men and

women,

public

and

private,

elite

and

popular,

ecclesiastical and secular, has been an important theme of recent research.8 The study of monasteries has benefitted from a gender-based approach. It has been shown, for instance, that English houses for women tended to site cloisters on the north, more protected, side of the church rather than the south side like houses for men.9 There

is

a

preliminary

point

to

be

made

about

terminology. So far as churches are concerned, this chapter is primarily concerned with cathedrals and abbey churches which meet defined criteria. The terms used for secular buildings, on the other hand, are less precise or technical. The principal residences of rulers were on occasion described as ‘palaces’, notably that of Charlemagne at Aachen.10 It was also a term which came to be used customarily of the residences of archbishops and bishops. However, there is no single descriptive term for the residences of pre-Conquest English kings who moved

between royal estates, where the buildings were often made of timber. The terms ‘house’ or ‘lodge’ hardly do them justice. The buildings sometimes covered a large area, but individually may not have been particularly grand.11 So far as castles are concerned, turris, or tower, is a straightforward term, but castrum and castellum, with their Greek equivalents kastron and kastellion, need careful handling.12 In Roman times castrum meant a camp and was used of a fortified settlement, whereas a castellum was usually smaller, but in the eleventh century the terms tended to be used interchangeably. In south Italy castrum or castellum usually meant a fortified village, and the term

rocca was used of a citadel.13 Distinguishing castles from other types of fortification is not easy. For Allen Brown the two key characteristics were that they were private and residential.14 Both of these are debatable:

some

complexes

were

hardly

private,

for

instance, the great Crusader castles, whilst many were not residential except in the most basic sense, having little accommodation.

Although

many

were

sited

in

the

countryside, often strategically located in relation to roads or river crossings, others were placed within town walls to house rulers, their entourages, or their officers.15 The siting of castles in relation to settlements and to churches is another important topic. New castles were sometimes planned with settlements attached. In Italy the process of

incastellamento meant that settlements were surrounded by defences. Often, however, cities and towns, already protected by walls, had towers placed within them. Some castles were constructed to host assemblies. They were centres of lordship where dues were paid and justice exercised, or provided accommodation for hunting parties. These

considerations

affected

size

and

form.

The

surrounding landscape might be remodelled round the castle, with amenities such as deer parks, fisheries and rabbit warrens, and boroughs founded to house a service population.16 Methods of construction and materials varied. Some were enclosures surrounded by fences or ditches, with defended gateways or with structures on the top of mounds. Sometimes timber was used, particularly when speed of building was of the essence.17 Others were built in stone from the first, especially in southern Italy, Sicily and the Near East where stone was available and timber hard to come by. Castles conveyed a powerful message about wealth and status. Any lord worth his salt would want a castle for symbolic as well as practical reasons, and castlebuilding

continued

long

after

the

need

for

fortified

residences had declined. Buildings in Normandy around the Year 1000 Secular buildings fall into three main categories: stone towers such as those at Rouen and Arques; defended seigneurial complexes like that at Mirville; and thirdly similar complexes but with the addition of mottes, like

Olivet (Grimbosq).18 Stone towers are found in other regions of France: Doué-la-Fontaine, in Maine-et-Loire; Mayenne in the same department; and Langeais (Indre-etLoire) are examples.19 From here the practice of building such towers had spread to Normandy by the time of Duke Richard II.20 At Rouen the tower was inside the Roman walls, and at Fécamp the castle was adjacent to a Benedictine abbey.21 A few other castles date from the late tenth or early eleventh century, and were sometimes associated with the status of count, such as that at Ivry.22 Most Norman lords did not live in stone towers but in defended residential enclosures, as was common in tenthand eleventh-century Europe. It is hard to find examples of motte and baileys (mound and enclosure) in Normandy which can be securely dated before 1066, yet this is the form of castle most associated with Norman military aggression in the British Isles: mounds either with towers or palisades on top as places of last resort, with enclosures or baileys housing domestic accommodation, kitchens and stables. Not all locations were suitable, of course: soil and timber were needed. Timber and earthwork complexes could be simple and therefore put up relatively quickly in a hostile environment. Olivet (Grimbosq), not far from the southern border and thus in a region of contested power, is an early Norman example, but motte and baileys are not thought to have been common around the first millennium.

By the late eleventh century it seems that oversight of castle-building came under ducal jurisdiction.23 In late eleventh century Normandy when a record of ducal customs in the Conqueror’s day was made, it was laid down that the duke’s permission for building castles had to be secured. Castles were defined by the depth of their ditches and

the

nature

of

their

towers,

in

other

words,

constructions that were deemed to be more seriously fortified than manorial complexes.24 When requested, the lord of a castle was expected to hand it over to the duke. Conversely putting a castle in defence against the duke was a sign of revolt, and punished accordingly. In the later tenth and early eleventh centuries, the rebuilding of cathedral and monastic churches was only just getting under way. The abbey church of Mont-SaintMichel

on

its

island

off

the

coast

had

survived.

Construction work had been undertaken in the later tenth century under Abbot Mainard, of which the church of Notre-Dame-sous-Terre survives. 25 The cathedral church at Rouen, damaged in the Viking era, was enlarged under Richard I with two towers at the west end.26 In the early eleventh century Duchess Judith founded the abbey of Bernay. The abbey church was laid out with an apseechelon east end (a central large apse flanked by two smaller apses), and compound piers, both novel features in Normandy at that time. Building work was also taking place at Saint-Wandrille and Jumièges, where the east end

was laid out not in the apse-echelon mode but with an ambulatory.27 The pace of construction picked up as more monasteries were founded such as Bec and Saint-Evroul, and at Caen, Saint Etienne and La Trinité. At Bayeux Bishop Odo embarked on the rebuilding of his cathedral, as did Bishop Geoffrey at Coutances.28 The early eleventh-century buildings, like Bernay or Jumièges,

were

not

particularly

groundbreaking

in

architectural terms.29 Bernay recalled the second abbey church at Cluny, which was not surprising considering the supervisory role there of the Cluniac William of Volpiano.30 At Jumièges, the church of Notre-Dame begun in the 1020s incorporated several features redolent of the western Empire such as the western massif, the eastern ambulatory, and the platform galleries. Vestiges of the earlier church of St Peter were incorporated into the building.31 The real breakthrough came at Caen, and especially with the abbey church of Saint Étienne. Work here seems to have begun around 1060 and began to take off when Lanfranc was appointed abbot in 1063.32 By the time of the church’s dedication in 1073 the transept and two bays were probably completed. The remainder of the nave and the west end with its twin towers followed, probably by 1100. The original ceiling of the nave was wooden, with groinvaulted side aisles, but later the nave and transepts were vaulted, possibly, it has been suggested, in the late 1120s.33 Providing naves with vaults rather than wooden roofs was a

key

architectural

breakthrough,

and

not

surprisingly

different churches are claimed as the first to have them. The distinctive characteristics of Saint-Étienne included its coherent articulation, wall passages, towers at the west end and the crossing, and the arrangement of the east end with an apse with flanking apses, features which were copied elsewhere in Normandy and England, as well as St Nicholas at Bari.34 In this sense, therefore, one church did influence building in other regions of Norman activity. The picture of Norman architecture in the first half of the eleventh century is therefore mixed. Secular buildings, ranging from modest residences to mottes and stone towers, were not distinctively Norman in type. The pace of church-building at the time of Norman migration to Italy was only just picking up and, as noted above, the earliest major churches were influenced by others in the western Empire and the abbey of Cluny. Only in the mid-eleventh century at Caen was something distinctively different tried, and this did influence other churches. Outside Normandy: Secular Buildings There was a variety of fortifications in southern Italy at the time of the Normans’ arrival. Towns and cities were generally enclosed by walls, and in some there were towers dating from Lombard or Byzantine times. Many village settlements were enclosed by walls, though this depended on the threat either from the sea or from predatory lords. The community of Montecassino, which possessed many

estates, had begun to surround them with walls before the arrival of the Normans and continued during their time.35 Many castle sites have not yet been investigated so it is not always

possible

to

be

precise

about

the

Normans’

contribution.36 Byzantine-era towers were taken over by the Normans, as, for instance, at Ariano Irpino. They also built from scratch in the countryside. The best-known example of the latter is Scribla in the Val di Crati in Calabria overlooking a main north–south route. In 1048 Robert Guiscard fortified the site but soon abandoned it in favour of a healthier situation.37 In Sicily the main settlements were already fortified with walls either dating back to classical times or more recently from the era of Arab rule.38 At Palermo, for instance, the city was walled and the Arab governors were based in a fortification at the highest

point,

which

the

Normans

took

over.39 The

Normans added towers within city walls, thus in this respect there was a parallel with urban castles in England.40 Elsewhere

many

unfortified

settlements

were

established during the tenth century as the population grew.41 One important archaeological investigation was of the site surrounding Segesta in the north-west of the island, an important Greek settlement with a beautiful temple surviving to this day which was abandoned in the early Middle Ages. In the mid-twelfth century Muslims settled on a hilltop nearby called Calathamet. Lordship was

then assumed by Renaud, from Thiron in the Perche region bordering Normandy, who gave the Christian church of St Mary to the monastery of Josaphat near Jerusalem.42 At another important site, Piazza Armerina in the south-east of the island, a nearby settlement, Villa Casale, was occupied throughout the early medieval centuries.43 As in Italy, at Antioch it is difficult to establish specifically Norman input, especially where sites were taken over and developed by the crusading orders. The citadel here now lies beneath the modern city of Antakya. At Margat the castle was taken over by the Hospitallers and massively redeveloped.44 Bourzey had been fortified with a tower by the Byzantines and the site was enclosed with walls by the Franks at some date before 1187, when it was captured by Saladin.45 Saône had been fortified by the Hamdanids, then the Byzantines. They are thought to have constructed the wall across the ridge to defend the site from the east and built a citadel, whilst to the west there was a small settlement. The castle guarded the route between Latakia and Antioch, and was built not on a commanding height but between two gorges. In 1108 it was held by Robert, son of Fulk and remained in his family until 1188. In the twelfth century the walls and the citadel were strengthened and a great ditch dug between the spur of land on which the castle sits, and the ridge behind.46 Looking back at the Norman Conquest of England, Orderic Vitalis commented that King William rode to all

parts of his kingdom, fortifying sites against enemy attack. The fortifications called castella by the Normans, he wrote, were barely known in the English provinces and so the English put up only a weak resistance to their enemies.47 It was previously believed that only a handful of castles, primarily the work of King Edward’s continental followers, existed before 1066.48 English defences were instead based on walled cities and towns, the most prominent of which in southern England were the burhs whose defences were the responsibility of the townsmen.49 1066 therefore seemed to represent a clear break in the nature of fortification, away from urban, public, defences to rural, private, ones. However, in recent years the abruptness of this change has been challenged. In the first place, the nature of elite dwellings in eleventh-century England has been re-evaluated. It is now believed that the residences of earls and king’s thegns were

already

becoming

grander

and

more

sharply

differentiated from those of peasant farmers.50 The former consisted of enclosures defended by gatehouses, containing halls, chambers, and other domestic buildings. Some church towers built adjacent to residences, it has been suggested, should be seen as symbols of lordship and may have formed a precedent for tower keeps built after 1066.51 Excavations at Oxford, for instance, indicate that the stone tower on the castle mound may date back to the reign of Edward the Confessor.52 New Norman lords in many cases

simply moved into the ringworks of their predecessors, perhaps strengthening the defences at the gate, or by building a motte.53 In towns and cities the Norman sheriff’s presence was marked by the building of a castle within the walls. Sometimes this took the form of a motte, as at Thetford, Norwich, Wallingford, Oxford, Lincoln, Stafford, York, and the first castle at Canterbury, or perhaps, where space was needed, an enclosure, as in the south-west and south-east corners of the city walls at London.54 Much of the early building was in timber, but there were a few castles built in stone from the start, such as Exeter, Richmond, and Chepstow in Monmouthshire.55 At Exeter the castle’s construction was ordered by the Conqueror after the city’s surrender in 1068.56 A corner of the Roman wall

was

enclosed

with

a

stone

gatehouse57

which

incorporated both a new-style Romanesque arch and oldstyle triangular topped windows. Richmond was built on a rocky site overlooking the river Swale in Yorkshire by the Breton Count Alan the Red who succeeded to the command of Earl Edwin in the locality. Building may have started soon after he received his lands. It took the form of a triangular enclosure on the cliffs with a fortified gatehouse and a first-floor stone hall with windows which overlooked the river.58 To build such a grand hall was making a statement about the earl’s own status and also perhaps that of

his

partner,

Gunnhildr,

daughter

of

King

Harold

Godwinson.59 The castle at Chepstow on the river Wye not

far from its confluence with the river Severn, was situated at a trading place at a crossing on the main route between Gloucester and Caerwent. It was granted first to William FitzOsbern, and then to his son Roger, who lost his lands in 1075. A great stone hall was built here, too, again as a symbol of power.60 Castles were not uniformly distributed across the country: there were relatively few in Lancashire and the south Lakes, Lincolnshire, Norfolk, and Cornwall, for instance. Timing and context were the deciding factors. In Lancashire and the south Lakes the tenurial landscape, with a mix of native families and newcomers, was only taking shape in the early twelfth century. The castle at Carlisle, initially founded by William Rufus, made a deliberate statement that the English king was moving into Cumbria, but relatively few private castles were being built in the region at the time.61 There were few in Lincolnshire, where the Danes took refuge in 1070, and also in Norfolk. Cornwall was relatively remote and scantily populated; again there were probably few Normans there. There was a clear association between castle-building and cities where sheriffs needed a base.62 Mottes were thickly concentrated in the border regions of Wales, and, at a later date, in Ireland, and in both locations arguably they were built as relatively quick ways of providing a strongpoint for defence and further advance.63 Many remain unexplored, rarely

crop up in documentary records, and are thus difficult to date. Particular attention has been given to the building of the White Tower in London and the keep at Colchester castle, both royal castles. As noted above, the earliest phases of building in London took the form of large enclosures in the south-east and south-west corners of the Roman walls, indicating that there was most concern about attack from the river or near the riverbank. Yet soon the building of the White Tower was ordered, a vast keep incorporating chambers and a chapel. If the Textus Roffensis is to be believed,

King

William

ordered

Bishop

Gundulf

of

Rochester, who was appointed bishop in 1077, to oversee its construction.64 The keep at Colchester was constructed on the base of the temple of Emperor Claudius, staking William’s claim to be the successor of the Roman emperor who had been instrumental in the conquest of Britain.65 It has been suggested that a supposed link with Helena, mother of Constantine, the first Christian emperor, may also have been influential in prompting the choice of this site. She was thought to have been the daughter of King Cole, from whom Colchester got its name.66 These two castles conveyed a sense of King William’s imperial aspirations.67 If the king’s projects were early examples of building in stone, other lords soon followed. The great tower keep, incorporating a hall and chamber, became fashionable and

was even, it has been suggested, an export to Normandy rather than an import.68 A stone castle became a symbol of power and status, and as such it was surrounded by the accoutrements of noble living, a deer park, fishponds, and rabbit warrens.69 Keeps were often entered at the firstfloor level and, instead of a timber forebuilding, a grand external staircase might be built, as at Castle Rising in Norfolk, constructed around 1140 by William d’Aubigny who had married Henry I’s widow: a castle literally fit for a queen.70 At Hedingham, built between about 1125 and 1160 by Aubrey de Vere, Earl of Oxford, there was a great internal space with galleries and chambers all round.71 The trend towards grander buildings continued. Orford castle in Suffolk, built by Henry II, has a polygonal exterior and cylindrical interior, with comfortable chambers, latrines, and sinks.72 Conisbrough in south Yorkshire, built by Hamelin Plantagenet in the 1170s and 1180s, was a luxurious and quite intimate cylindrical keep with clasping towers.73 Above all, Henry II’s work at Dover best conveys the image of royal power in late twelfth-century England. R. Allen Brown drew attention to the great sums spent on the tower keep and the two curtain walls, inner and outer.74 The castle’s strategic location has always been appreciated: it remains a commanding presence on the cliffs above Dover. The scale and quality of the building, designed to overawe and impress visitors, especially those

of high status heading towards the shrine of Becket at Canterbury, are particularly striking. Fit for a Prince: Palaces and Lodges The Norman kings frequently resided at Westminster, where their predecessors had had a palace, west of the city of London.75 It was here that William Rufus built a great stone hall, one of the largest in Europe.76 It is probable that Edward had also built a palace at Winchester, and the Conqueror is known to have greatly extended the site, though nothing is known of its arrangement.77 Henry I’s favourite

residence

at

Woodstock

in

Oxfordshire,

conveniently situated for hunting, almost certainly was enclosed by walls – the park’s stone wall was said to have been his work – but the site does not seem to have been seriously defended.78 Again the houses at Brampton in Huntingdonshire do not seem to have been fortified.79 Clarendon in Wiltshire was another royal house used for hunting, with a great hall where in 1164 the Constitutions of

Clarendon

were

presented

to

the

assembled

ecclesiastics.80 Itinerant English kings were constantly on the move through their kingdom, and had a variety of residences where they could stay ranging from houses, many made of timber, palaces at Westminster and in the countryside, to castles, some much grander and more commodious than others. In that respect the physical settings of their court and household were different from that of the kings of

Sicily, being much more geographically scattered and diverse in form.81 Palermo thus stands out as a true capital city. The decision to settle there and to make the city his capital was genuinely a major change in the use of buildings and visual culture to create a basis for Roger’s new kingdom. It would have been possible to continue developing earlier centres of Norman power such as Mileto, his father’s base, or Salerno, which had been important latterly to Robert Guiscard, or perhaps Bari, strategically important for its proximity to the Balkans whilst Cefalù was chosen as the site of an important new cathedral intended to be Roger’s mausoleum.82 Palermo was to be enriched by buildings which could rival Constantinople, the city founded by Constantine, the first Christian emperor. The palace, situated in the northwest of Palermo, included a suite of rooms decorated with mosaics and a royal chapel which is rightly seen as one of the finest achievements of twelfth-century architecture, a dazzling setting for the display of power.83 Every means was deployed to show that Roger was a legitimate king. His depiction as a Byzantine emperor on the mosaic in the Martorana church in Palermo, his similar depiction on the coins issued in 1140, and the commissioning of a porphyry tomb, are all indications that he saw himself as succeeding to Byzantine authority in Sicily, south Italy, and the islands.84 In addition to the palace there was a lodge at La

Favara outside the city with a courtyard and lake, a second at Scibene and a third at Altofonte, nine kilometres to the south-west, where there was a park enclosed for hunting deer and boar.85 Further luxurious buildings in the neighbourhood of Palermo were added by Roger’s successors: La Ziza was William I’s summer palace. The building consisted of a cube with rooms surrounding a central reception hall with a great fountain and a pool in front of the palace.86 La Cuba, built by William II, consisted of a rectangular domed brick building (the name Cuba is derived from Arabic ‘qubbah’, meaning dome), with blind arches, a courtyard, and a fountain. The layout, the style, and the decoration of these buildings, rightly celebrated, drew on both Arabic and Greek craftsmanship, and convey an unparalleled image of wealth and royal splendour.87 A full discussion of these buildings lies outside the scope of this book, where the focus is on the long eleventh century, the era when Norman adventurers made gifts of gold, silver and textiles to religious houses, or helped to finance building work at churches such as St Matthew at Salerno, or SS. Trinità at Venosa. The dazzling buildings of Sicily came much later and in a different context from London under Henry II or Bohemond III of Antioch, but the wealth which paid for them came from the eleventh-century conquests. The time-scale has to be kept in mind: the architecture of both secular and ecclesiastical buildings in

the middle of the twelfth century had evolved from the Normans early years on the island, and was continuing to evolve rapidly. It would be a mistake to describe the Palermo of Roger II as a Norman city. Ecclesiastical Buildings There was a great deal of church-building in eleventhcentury southern Italy, but in a variety of styles of which northern French, or more specifically Norman was only one.88 Here in particular it is often very difficult to disentangle the eleventh- and early twelfth-century forms from

later

rebuilding.

The

great

abbey

church

at

Montecassino, built under Abbot Desiderius, was modelled on early Christian churches at Rome as a basilica with three apses, no external transepts, and adorned with the great

bronze

doors

which

the

abbot

had

made

in

Constantinople.89 The church was dedicated in 1071 in the presence of the pope. Its form influenced that of other churches in the south, such as St Matthew’s Cathedral at Salerno, of which Robert Guiscard was a major benefactor, and the cathedrals of Capua, Suessa, Caserta, and St Lawrence, Aversa.90 Catania and Mileto similarly had three aisles, slightly projecting transepts, and three apses.91 The west end of St Nicholas at Bari as noted above looks very like St Stephen at Caen, but internally this was a threeaisled basilica without transepts. Over the aisles there are tribune galleries reserved for women. At Lipari, Mazara and Troina the churches were aisleless with transepts (‘T

shaped’).92 The churches of Sant’Eufemia and SS. Trinità, Venosa, were similar to churches built in Normandy with three aisles, transepts and an east end arranged with an apse and echelons, the so-called ‘Benedictine plan’ because it was used in many monastic churches.93 Many of the churches of southern Italy and Sicily had been the location of earlier Christian sites. Thus La Trinità at Venosa had been an early Christian church built over a Roman temple. Adjacent to the new church are the ruins of an early Christian baptistery. The church itself has a basilica plan with a semi-circular apse and ambulatory. Some of the walls are built over Roman mosaics, and there are two Corinthian columns in the nave. It was here that the earliest Hautevilles were buried. At Syracuse the pillars of a Doric temple were incorporated into an early Christian church which became a mosque and was then reconverted under the Normans. The cathedral at Palermo was similarly an early church converted into a mosque and then back again into a church.94 Here too, the church took the form of a basilica with three apses. It was in twelfth-century Sicily that the most spectacular churches were built, the Cappella Palatina in the royal palace at Palermo, the cathedral at Cefalù founded by Roger II in 1131, supposedly as a thank-offering for his escape from shipwreck, and Monreale, a few miles outside Palermo. These were glittering creations, adorned with Byzantine-style mosaics.95 The Cappella Palatina was built

over an earlier chapel which became the crypt of the new chapel, consecrated in 1143. The form was that of a basilica with a central nave leading by five steps to a domed Byzantine sanctuary. The wooden ceiling is coffered and painted in Islamic style, and there is a marble floor in

opus sectile. At the west end is a royal throne, and above this the ceiling depicts the ascent into heaven of Alexander the Great, together with the sun and the moon. On the north wall are balconies from which the king and notables saw those entering the church from the south.96 Cefalù was founded as the intended burial place of Roger II. The church was basilican in form with three apses, in the central one of which was a great mosaic of Christ Pantokrator, below whom was the Virgin flanked by angels, with apostles in the lowest register. It is possible that the king’s plan was that the whole church would be covered with mosaics, but after his death it was neglected, and the body of Roger II was eventually placed in a porphyry sarcophagus in Palermo cathedral. The cathedral at Monreale was built between 1174 and 1182 as the seat of the archbishop of Palermo. This too was a basilica with three apses, magnificently decorated with mosaics. In the east end is Christ Pantokrator over the Virgin and Child, with Peter and Paul in the other apses, and scenes from the Old and New Testaments along the nave. William I and William II were buried there.97 These beautiful buildings are rightly seen as triumphs of the

mixing of Byzantine, Latin and Arabic cultures, but it is hard to see them as Norman. In England one of the areas of starkest change was the rebuilding after 1066 of all the major cathedrals and abbey churches,

bar

Edward

the

Confessor’s

Westminster

Abbey.98 Not only were the old churches pulled down but they were also rebuilt from a different philosophical outlook. In some cases, the relocation of sees necessitated building a new church, as at Lincoln, which had previously been sited at Dorchester. In others such as monastic cathedrals, there was probably an upsurge in numbers of monks to be catered for. Keeping an eye on the building projects of others was another factor.99 On some occasions, though perhaps not often, a great deal of space might be needed. The hagiographer Goscelin of Saint-Bertin writing about 1080 commented on the changes going on around him: ‘They do well to destroy who will build something better. I, a useless little man, who only encumber the ground, am often annoyed when I see flimsy buildings and, completely lacking in material means, I plan great things. There are perfectly well regarded churches which I, given the power to do so, would not suffer to stand unless they were as grand, magnificent, soaring, vast, light-flooded and noble as I would wish them to be.’100 Goscelin’s comment, it has been pointed out, was written in the context of the good that might come from new beginnings following destruction.101 He was also writing before most of the new

cathedrals were complete. Nevertheless, it is a valuable counterpoise

to

the

laments

of

Bishop

Wulfstan

of

Worcester about the destruction of St Oswald’s Church: ‘We strive to pile up stones while neglecting our souls.’102 It is striking that the incoming bishops and abbots not only chose to build, and on a monumental scale, but also to destroy the work of their predecessors without regard, a radically

different

outlook

from

modern-day

conservationists. Eric Fernie has emphasized three crucial ways in which the new churches differed from their predecessors. The first and most dramatic was their size, especially their length.

Bishop

Walkelin’s

church

at

Winchester,

for

instance, was comparable only with the eleventh-century churches at Speyer and Mainz. At 436 feet Winchester was longer than old St Peter’s Rome at 407 feet, and Fernie thinks it was only when the new cathedrals approached the length of St Peter’s that a halt was called.103 Second, the approach was integrative rather than additive: in other words, the church was conceived as a whole, rather than as a collection of parts. A good contrast is between the preConquest arrangements at St Augustine’s Canterbury where Abbot Wulfric (d. 1061) was engaged in a building programme,

and

the

post-Conquest

church.104

Third,

different designs were attempted. There is a striking contrast between Lanfranc’s monastic church at Christ Church Canterbury which drew on St Stephen’s Caen, for

instance, and that of Thomas of Bayeux at York which was a vast aisleless space.105 Lincoln, too, had a singular design, suggestive of a fortification. Its west end with its great arches was, it has been suggested, reminiscent of Roman triumphal arches like those of Severus and Constantine.106 It was decorated with a biblical frieze and again it has been suggested that this may recall the Arch of Constantine.107 As the first emperor under whom Christianity became the official religion of the empire and who had been proclaimed in York, Constantine was a figure from the past of particular relevance for the Normans. Designs might be affected by, for instance, the need to provide for monks, or to offer a route through the church for pilgrims visiting a shrine. Incoming ecclesiastics may well have kept an eye on what others were building. Elements from St Stephen’s Caen, for instance, were found in several churches, but there were adaptations and innovations: these were no bland copies of Norman churches. Nor were they conservative: experiments were tried. Sometimes they failed, as when the tower at Winchester cathedral collapsed in 1107. Innovation rather than slapdash workmanship during a period of rapid construction may have been the cause of such failures.108 Some of the churches, like York Minster, were brightly painted on the outside as well as the inside, and must have made quite an impression on the observer within the city and outside the walls.109

Fernie points out that the early intense period of building occurred in the 1070s and 1080s.110 A second phase, in the 1090s and early twelfth century, saw more decoration being applied, and more experimentation such as at Bury, Anselm’s Christ Church cathedral at Canterbury, Norwich, Durham, and Tewkesbury.111 Bury’s abbey church was very long; it included an ambulatory and crypt, and had a large western block.112 Anselm’s work at Christ Church,

his

‘glorious

choir’,

involved

a

radical

transformation of the east end only twenty years after Lanfranc’s work, with a long raised extension, possibly to make more room for shrines of Anglo-Saxon saints. Norwich

is

another

church

closely

modelled

on

St

Stephen’s Caen, as is Durham, but what distinguishes the latter are the stone ribs, pointed arches, rib vaulting and the incised piers. Durham is an extraordinary building, sited on a bluff above the river, constructed with great panache and no expense spared. Not surprisingly it has attracted a great deal of discussion. It was begun in 1093 to replace an earlier church, built to house the relics of the great saint of the north, Cuthbert. The region was unquiet, the previous bishop, Walcher, having been murdered in 1080. The Normans were as yet newcomers and their presence potentially impermanent, and the region, the southern portion of the old kingdom of Northumbria, subject to attack

or

takeover

by

the

Scots.

Bishop

William,

consecrated in January 1081, had gone to Rome to seek permission to establish a monastery. The new church had a long eastern arm and here and in the other arms there were alternating piers and columns, incised in the east arm and with spirals in the transepts. Cuthbert’s body lay in the main apse, and it is thought that the whole arrangement was in effect a shrine in stone, with the spirals recalling old St Peter’s Rome, where Constantine had used spiral columns to mark St Peter’s tomb. The eastern arm was also vaulted from the start (1093–1104) and possibly the transepts (between about 1110 and 1120), though the nave vaulting came later.113 The pointed arches of the nave vaults, possibly dating to around 1128, are the earliest in England and, it is suggested, were probably derived from the third abbey church at Cluny.114 The ambition of the designer to build such a church at such a time and such a location

combined

architectural

innovation

with

the

imagination to construct a shrine fit for the saint, perhaps drawing on vanished Northumbrian buildings as well as St Peter’s in Rome.115 The bishop who initiated the project was a man of remarkable stature. He had been a clerk at Bayeux then a monk at Saint-Calais in Maine, finally abbot of SaintVincent at Le Mans. He became a counsellor to William I and is a possible candidate as the mastermind behind the Domesday Survey. It has been pointed out that the bishop’s chapel at Durham, a relatively private space, was much

more clearly Norman in style than the cathedral, which was open to a wider public.116 How much time William actually spent in Durham, especially since he spent several years in exile under Rufus, is unclear, but the deployment of resources of men and material must have been huge. Durham was to inspire other churches, notably Lindisfarne Priory, Dunfermline Abbey, and St Magnus’s Cathedral Kirkwall in Orkney. The thoroughness of the rebuilding and the ambitions of their builders were possible because of the turnover of personnel, and the wealth of the newcomers. Fernie pointed out that the greatest churches were on the whole built in the east of the country where there were wealthy bishoprics and abbeys, compared with western England.117 Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire was one exception, where the second patron was Henry I’s wealthy illegitimate son Robert, Earl of Gloucester and where the plan, it has been suggested, drew for inspiration on Vitruvius’s description of his basilica at Fanum in Italy.118 Reading Abbey in Berkshire, Henry I’s major foundation, was planned as a major pilgrimage church housing a star relic, the hand of St James, and was to be the king’s place of burial. Although only fragments of the buildings remain, the carving of the cloister capitals is of the highest quality.119 Thus the great building programme of major churches was undoubtedly a product of the Conquest as incoming ecclesiastics found them wanting, but we have seen that

they did not replicate Norman churches. One of the most Norman was the abbey church at Westminster, built for an English king. It resembled Jumièges, or Jumièges was like Westminster, for experts do not agree which came first.120 In

Wales

and

transformation,

Scotland but

change

the

church

came

later

underwent and

less

dramatically than it did in England. Many of the old churches were given to English or Norman monastic communities and were converted into priories; bishops, meanwhile, began to build cathedrals. Then the new orders arrived, and in Wales a number of Cistercian houses were built, but their layout and architecture was along the lines of Cistercian houses everywhere. Even more so than in England, change cannot be seen simply in terms of Norman colonialism. In Scotland change had begun with Queen Margaret, who had enlisted Archbishop Lanfranc’s help in bringing Benedictines to Dunfermline.121 King Alexander I was a patron of Augustinian canons, who could serve cathedrals but also evangelize rural areas. Canons were brought from Nostell to Scone Priory, the place where Scottish kings underwent inauguration, and Augustinians were introduced at St Andrews, Holyrood, and Jedburgh.122 Where Scotland differed from Wales was in the strong support for monastic foundations by the ruling house, most famously King David, who patronized the Tironensians (Selkirk, which moved to Kelso)

and

the

Cistercians

(Melrose).123

Timing

is

significant, for Queen Margaret and her sons were able to draw for manpower on English monastic communities. In all parts of Britain the twelfth century especially saw the building of local churches in stone. Most were relatively simple single or two-cell structures. So far as England is concerned there has been much discussion about the ‘SaxoNorman overlap’ as many churches, judged on style alone, have elements both of pre-Conquest English and Norman architecture.124 There are a few examples where lords had new

churches

built

which

still

convey

a

sense

of

architectural unity, such as St Nicholas at Barfreston in Kent, remodelled in the later twelfth century for the de Port family. Kilpeck in Herefordshire is a second example.125 For comparison there is St Seiriol’s Priory at Penmon on Anglesey for Gruffudd ap Cynan King of North Wales, and at Leuchars, and Dalmeny in Fife in Scotland, respectively for Thor Longus and Gospatric, Earl of Dunbar.126 For lords such as these, a local church was far more than a simple box-like structure. Turning to the Near East, the early churches of the city of Antioch, with its special connections to St Peter and St Paul, have suffered earthquake damage. The church built by the Emperor Constantine on an island in the river Orontes, for instance, had been abandoned.127 The chief Christian church after the city had been reconquered from the Arabs in 969 was al-Kusyan, which became known as the cathedral of St Peter. It was here that the inauguration

of patriarchs and princes took place: Adhémar of Le Puy was buried here in 1098, and Tancred in 1112.128 Apart from the façade added to the cave church at Antioch where St Peter was thought to have worshipped, little more is known about building work in the Norman era. The Normans who migrated to Italy, the British Isles and the Near East had wealth and power which they translated into buildings constructed according to contemporary idioms of castles, cathedrals and abbey churches. They built castles wherever they went, and in the British Isles this was essentially a novel phenomenon. In England most of all the relative speed and thoroughness of their takeover was accompanied by a transformation of the urban and rural built environment. The construction of fortifications in towns and in strategic locations, especially using earth and timber, was symbolic of their takeover, only surpassed by the

great

churches

being

constructed

in

cities

and

monasteries. In Italy and Sicily the transformation was less dramatic. Here too castles were associated with lordship. Cathedrals and abbeys were built or remodelled according to different plans as the Latin church was organized. The wave of building which followed the Norman ‘conquests’ was not, as we have seen, a simple case of exporting

Norman

blueprints,

but

a

much

more

complicated process. In terms of secular building there was nothing distinctively Norman about defended residences or stone towers. As cathedrals and abbey churches were built

or rebuilt patrons looked at what was going on elsewhere – either in competition or for inspiration – or looked further afield to the empire or to the abbey of Cluny. As the Normans moved outside the duchy, a wave of new building followed, but for the most part it was neither distinctively Norman nor was it revolutionary. In the city of Antioch the existing

defences

remained.

Elsewhere

existing

fortifications, whether Roman, Byzantine, or Arab, were used and new castles built as needed. In southern Italy and Sicily there were already fortified cities, settlements and stone towers: again these were used and adapted by the Normans, who added to their number. There were different sources of inspiration for the many churches being built: the basilica churches of Rome, churches without aisles, with apses, or with Byzantine domes. Only in the British Isles and especially in England was change fast and extensive, building in idioms that were largely novel. In terms of secular architecture, continuity of occupation

and

familiarity

with

ringworks

has

been

emphasized, whilst at Oxford the stone castle tower may predate 1066. Even so the strengthening of defences and proliferation of fortified sites, especially motte and baileys, was something new. Anglo-Saxon England had seen nothing like the great White Tower or Colchester keep. In England the new bishops and abbots had the will and the resources to tear down the churches they found and have them rebuilt on an enormous scale, not only incorporating new

ideas about their layout and decoration, but also reflecting insular traditions in a way that produced something new and different from Norman churches.

CONCLUSION as a people favoured by T God is far removed from that outlined in the preceding HE NORMANS’ VIEW OF THEMSELVES

pages. The inhabitants of tenth-century Normandy were mixed in origin and, as they moved outside the duchy, they enrolled others in their ranks. It is thus a moot point how ‘Norman’ the Norman conquests were. The Normans won exceptional victories, but their methods were not original. They are portrayed as mounted knights on the Bayeux Tapestry, yet there were relatively few occasions when cavalry charges were decisive. In fact in any overview of their campaigns, it is their mastery of sieges and their ability to assemble fleets and to use them both for transport, in sieges, and in battle, which really stands out. The sieges of Bari and Dyrrachion were major operations by land and sea. Ships were essential for transport to England

and

Sicily,

and

for

campaigns

in

the

Mediterranean. Where not available, they had to be built, as indeed the Tapestry shows. The Normans have been credited with state-building. In England it has been argued that the Normans made the governmentally sophisticated but politically weak English kingdom function more efficiently.1 In Scotland the reign of David I, with the importation of Anglo-Normans, was long seen as laying the foundations for the Scottish state. In southern Italy Normans were seen as agents of political unification. In Antioch they established a framework of

governance centred on the prince and the patriarch. However, in the case of England the regime of the Norman kings was not ‘efficient’ in a modern sense; rather, it was run by Normans in their own interests. In the case of Scotland the key era for the development of the Scottish state was the later twelfth century.2 In eleventh-century Italy the Normans did not unify the south: political unification was protracted and incomplete until much later. In Antioch the institutions operated in a context of frequent warfare and shifting frontiers: this was a very particular kind of political society. The Normans’ encounters with other peoples produced results that were infinitely varied over time and according to circumstance. There was no single Norman world. Communication, both spoken and written, and law were two areas where ruling minorities had to accommodate majority diversity. The effects of minority on majority and vice versa may be seen in literature and architecture, and we have seen how something new, a hybrid text or building, might emerge. Whilst the Normans’ arrival could be a catalyst for change, we have to ask how far change would have happened anyway, and how far their influence was benign? English literary culture was open to continental influences before 1066. Patrons of architecture were already looking to the continent for models. Conquest accelerated change and, in the case of church-building, was initially destructive. The English church would, one way or

another, have had to embrace ‘reform’ and a greater degree of contact with the papacy. On the mainland of southern Italy cultural influences were and remained diverse. The extent of change varied greatly. In Lombard principalities there seems to have been a great deal of continuity. In areas where the Normans imposed their rule, in Apulia and Sicily, Latin bishoprics and monasteries were founded, but in the short term at least Greek and Muslim communities remained in place. As in England, papal authority was becoming more of a reality, and papal power had to accommodate Norman ambition. Cultural influences did not operate in a vacuum. Greater contacts between northern and southern Europe, the Byzantine and Arab worlds meant an interchange of people, pilgrims, and access to lost classical texts and Arabic science and mathematics.

To

some

extent

these

contacts

flowed

through Norman lands, but again it could be argued they would have happened anyway, if perhaps a little later through the Crusades. Writing

in

England,

the

chronicler

William

of

Malmesbury claimed that over the tomb of Robert Guiscard at Venosa was the legend, ‘Here lies Guiscard, the terror of the world’.3 True or not, this was how Guiscard was seen. His reputation was said by Ralph of Caen to have reached a hermit living outside the walls of Jerusalem, who met Guiscard’s kinsman Tancred in 1099 and directed him to the location of various biblical sites. He asked Tancred

about his religion, fatherland, family and name. Tancred replied that he was a Christian, a Norman, of the family of Guiscard, and Tancred.4 Reputation mattered, and it travelled. One way of looking at the Normans’ success is to say that they were able to shape their image because of the context in which narratives were written. Dudo, William of Jumièges, William of Poitiers, and the Bayeux Tapestry projected the image which remained intrinsic to their master narrative. In southern Italy and the First Crusade, too, there were those who wrote up the Normans’ deeds. Their reputation was echoed outside Norman territories where they were seen as great and successful fighters. The importance of having success reported is shown clearly by the eclipse of Duke Robert II Curthose, whose deeds on the First Crusade were acknowledged but not accorded the praise given to Bohemond. In Normandy and England Robert was represented as a failure, who had turned down the kingdom of Jerusalem and lost his inheritance, the duchy of Normandy. Only as time went on were his achievements given their due. The Normans’ military successes were nonetheless real, and we have seen how to a considerable extent they were assisted by timing and context. In Italy, Sicily, and the Near East they were operating in zones of contested power, at the margins of empires. In Italy it was the western and eastern empires, in Sicily the Zirids and the Byzantines, in

Syria the Byzantines and the Seljuks. Power seemed to be passing away from emperors to local lords. In England the Normans benefitted from successive changes in the ruling dynasty

and

elite

which

left

Edgar

Ætheling,

the

representative of the old royal line, with insufficient support to challenge William the Conqueror. Luck was involved, most obviously in England in 1066: had Harold not faced his brother and the Norwegian king at Stamford Bridge, or had he not chosen to confront William the Conqueror so soon after the battle in the north, events might have turned out differently. In a wider context the rise of the Normans can be seen as one strand in the history of medieval migration. They had emerged from the Vikings of Scandinavia, who colonized Iceland, Greenland, and settled in the British Isles. In eastern Europe there were westward movements from central Asia pressing particularly on the frontiers of the Byzantine Empire. The population of Europe was increasing, and this in turn fed colonization in all regions of Europe, the foundation of new towns, and the expansion of cities. Lords could, if they wished, invest in land clearance, the foundation of towns and the establishment of markets. For sons with few prospects at home, there were many opportunities for soldiers of fortune. By 1100 the political geography of western Europe had altered with the slow decline of Scandinavian attacks on the British Isles, and the stabilization

of

both

French

principalities,

and

the

Byzantine empire under Alexios Comnenos. Most people continued to live in the countryside, but cities were increasingly wealthy and politically important. Palermo was one of the largest and wealthiest. London, though smaller, outstripped others in the British Isles. The importance of commercial wealth from towns and cities ruled by the Normans has been underestimated in comparison to control of rural territory. Much more is now known about the Normans, with the publication of new editions of narratives and charters. It is, however, the framing of new research questions, coupled with new disciplines, which makes this such an exciting research field: memory studies, gender, and identity have altered our approaches. Archaeology has transformed our understanding, for instance, of settlements and residences, especially castles. The study of bone assemblages reveals what inhabitants ate and where it came from. Pottery, jewellery and textiles illuminate patterns of consumption and trade. The study of coins, in England at least, has been enriched by discoveries of single coins and hoards by metal detectorists. One exciting prospect for the future lies in the study of historical DNA by which we may learn more about the genetic makeup of populations ruled by the Normans. The central argument of this book is that behind the legends about the Normans, their successes owed much to timing and to their leaders. From one perspective this might look like old-style history, of heroes and battles, but

thanks to new research we now understand much more about the circumstances in which ruthless opportunists were able to change the political history of Europe, and about the broader consequences of their achievements.

ENDNOTES Abbreviations AA

Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana.

History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. and trans. S. B. Edgington (Oxford, 2007) AC

The Alexiad of Anna Comnena, trans. E. R. A. Sewter (Harmondsworth, 1969)

Alexander Telese

of‘The History of the Most Serene Roger, First King of Sicily’, in Roger II and the Creation

of the Kingdom of Sicily, trans. G. A. Loud (Manchester, 2012), pp. 63–129 Amatus

The History of the Normans by Amatus of Montecassino,

trans.

P.

N.

Dunbar

(Woodbridge, 2004) ASC

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, ed. and trans. M. Swanton (London, 1996)

BB

The Historia Ierosolimitana of Baldric of Bourgueil, ed. S. Biddlecombe (Woodbridge, 2014)

BT

D. M. Wilson, The Bayeux Tapestry (London, 1985)

Carmen

Carmen de Hastingae Proelio, ed. and trans. F. Barlow, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1999)

Dudo

Dudo of St Quentin, History of the Normans, trans. E. Christiansen (Woodbridge, 1998)

Falcandus

La Historia o Liber de Regno Sicilie e la Epistola ad Petrum Panormitan Ecclesie

Thesaurarium di Ugo Falcando, Battista

Siragusa,

Fonti

per

ed.

la

G.

Storia

d’Italia, xxii (Rome, 1897)

The History of the Tyrants of Sicily by ‘Hugo Falcandus’ 1154–69, trans. G. A. Loud and T. Wiedemann (Manchester, 1998) Falco Benevento

of‘The Chronicle of Falco of Benevento’, in

Roger II and the Creation of the Kingdom of Sicily, trans. G. A. Loud (Manchester, 2012), pp. 130–249

Flodoard

The Annals of Flodoard of Reims 919–966, ed. and trans. S. Fanning and B. S. Bachrach (Toronto, 2011)

Fulcher Chartres

ofA History of the Expedition to Jerusalem,

1095–1117, trans. F. R. Ryan with an introduction by H. S. Fink (Knoxville, TN, 1969)

The First Crusade: the Chronicle of Fulcher of Chartres and Other Source Materials, trans. E. Peters, 2nd edn (Philadelphia, 1998) Gaimar

Geffrei Gaimar, Estoire des Engleis. History

of the English, ed. and trans. I. Short (Oxford, 2009) GDB

Great

Domesday

Book,

cited

by

folio,

Domesday Book: A Complete Translation,

trans.

A.

Williams

and

G.

H.

Martin

(Harmondsworth, 2002)

Gesta

Gesta

Francorum

et

Aliorum

Francorum

Hierosolimitanorum, ed. and trans. R. Hill (Oxford, 1962)

GND

The Gesta Normannorum Ducum of William of Jumièges, Orderic Vitalis, and Robert of Torigni, ed. and trans. E. Van Houts, 2 vols (Oxford, 1992, 1995)

Guibert

The Deeds of God through the Franks: Gesta Dei

per

Francos,

trans.

R.

Levine

(Woodbridge, 1997) HH

Historia Anglorum (History of the English People), ed. and trans. D. Greenway (Oxford, 1996)

HKB

Geoffrey of Monmouth, The History of the Kings

of

Britain,

trans.

L.

Thorpe

(Harmondsworth, 1966) JW

The Chronicle of John of Worcester, ii, eds. R. R. Darlington and P. McGurk, trans. J. Bray and P. McGurk; iii, ed. and trans. P. McGurk (Oxford, 1995, 1998)

LDB

Little

Domesday

Book

cited

by

folio,

Domesday Book: A Complete Translation, trans.

A.

Williams

and

G.

H.

Martin

(Harmondsworth, 2002) Malaterra

The Deeds of Count Roger of Calabria and

Sicily and of his brother Duke Robert Guiscard, trans. K. Baxter Wolf (Ann Arbor, MI, 2005)

ODNB

Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

OV

The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. M. Chibnall, 6 vols (Oxford, 1969–80)

PL

Patrologia Latina, ed. J.-P. Migne, 221 vols (Paris, 1844–64)

Robert Monk

theHistory

of

the

First

Iherosolimitana,

Crusade.

trans.

C.

Historia

Sweetenham

(Aldershot, 2005) RRAN

Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum, III, Regesta

Regis

Stephani

ac

Mathildis

Imperatoricis ac Gaufridi et Henrici Ducum Normannorum

1135–1154,

eds.

H.

A.

Cronne and R. H. C. Davis (Oxford, 1968). WAp.

William of Apulia, Deeds of Robert Guiscard:

La Geste de Robert Guiscard, ed. and trans. M. Mathieu (Palermo, 1961). There is an online translation into English by G. A. Loud to

which

page

references

are

used:

https://ims.leeds.ac.uk/wpcontent/uploads/sites/29/2019/02/William-ofApulia.pdf WM

William of Malmesbury

WP

Gesta Guillelmi, ed. and trans. R. H. C. Davis

and M. Chibnall (Oxford, 1998) Introduction     1 .

E.g. D. C. Douglas, The Norman Achievement, 1050–

1100 (London, 1967) and The Norman Fate, 1100–1154 (London, 1976); D. Matthew, The Norman Kingdom of

Sicily (Cambridge, 1992). More recently, P. Oldfield, City and Community in Norman Italy (Cambridge, 2009) uses the term in the title of his book, though with a warning that it is being used only for convenience.     2 .

E.g. C. Homer Haskins, The Normans in European

History (New York, 1915); R. Allen Brown, The Normans (Woodbridge, 1984); M. D’Onofrio (ed.), Les Normands, peuple d’Europe 1030–1200 (Venice, 1994); T. Rowley, The Normans (Stroud, 1999), and see the two volumes by D. C. Douglas cited in the previous note.     3 .

See, for example, G. A. Bremner (ed.), Architecture,

Urbanism and British Imperial Studies (Oxford, 2016) and Imperial Gothic: Religious Architecture and High

Anglican Culture in the British Empire, c. 1840–1870 (New Haven and London, 2013).     4 .

WP, p. 134; Ralph of Caen, The Gesta Tancredi of Ralph

of Caen. A History of the Normans on the First

Crusade, trans. B. Bachrach and D. S. Bachrach (Aldershot, 2005), p. 46; Gesta Francorum, pp. 44–8. Chapter 1  Writing about the Normans     1 .

E. Albu, The Normans in their Histories (Woodbridge, 2001); L. Shopkow, History and Community. Norman

Historical

Writing

in

the

Eleventh

and

Twelfth

Centuries (Washington, 1997); K. B. Wolf, Making History. The Normans and their Historians in EleventhCentury Italy (Philadelphia, 1995); N. Webber, The Evolution of Norman Identity 911-–1154 (Woodbridge, 2005). Amongst the more important recent works on individual authors see: B. Pohl, Dudo of St Quentin’s

Historia

Normannorum:

Tradition,

Innovation

and

Memory (Woodbridge, 2015); C. Rozier, D. Roach, G. Gasper and E. Van Houts (eds.), Orderic Vitalis. Life,

Works and Interpretations (Woodbridge, 2016); R. M. Thomson, E. Dolmans

Discovering

William

of

and

E.

A. Winkler

Malmesbury

(eds.),

(Woodbridge,

2017).     2 .

For a translation of selected excerpts see E. Van Houts (ed. and trans.), The Normans in Europe (Manchester, 2000). For works on the Bayeux Tapestry to 1988, see S. A. Brown with M. W. Herren, The Bayeux Tapestry:

History and Bibliography (Woodbridge, 1988). S. A. Brown, ‘Bibliography of Bayeux Tapestry Studies:

1985–1999’, P. Bouet, B. Levy and F. Neveux (eds.), The

Bayeux Tapestry. Embroidering the Facts of History (Caen,

2004),

pp.

411–18.

Amongst

the

more

substantial contributions since 1998 are S. Lewis, The

Rhetoric of Power in the Bayeux Tapestry (Cambridge, 1999); L. Musset (trans. R. Rex), The Bayeux Tapestry (Woodbridge, 2005); G. R. Owen-Crocker (ed.), King

Harold II and the Bayeux Tapestry (Woodbridge, 2005); M. K. Foys, K. E. Overbey and D. Tekla (eds.), The

Bayeux Tapestry: New Interpretations (Woodbridge, 2009); S. A. Brown, The Bayeux Tapestry: Bayeux,

Médiathèque

Municipale:

MS1:

a

Sourcebook

(Turnhout, 2013); E. Carson Pastan and S. D. White,

The Bayeux Tapestry and Its Contents: A Reassessment (Woodbridge, 2014); A. C. Henderson with G. R. OwenCrocker (eds.), Making Sense of the Bayeux Tapestry:

Readings and Reworkings (Manchester, 2016).     3 .

C. H. Haskins, The Normans in European History (Boston, New York, 1915), p. 13.

    4 .

R. H. C. Davis, The Normans and their Myth (London, 1976); Brown, Normans, p. 174.

    5 .

For a recent discussion reviewing the debate see C. Weeda,

‘Ethnic

Identification

and

Stereotypes

in

Western Europe, circa 1100–1300’, History Compass, xii (2014), 586–606.     6 .

Quae posuit in regno jura, Dudo, trans. Christiansen, p. 6.

    7 .

L. Shopkow, ‘The Carolingian World of Dudo of SaintQuentin’, Journal of Medieval History, xv (1989), 19–37; S. Lecouteux, ‘A partir de la diffusion de trois poèmes hagiographiques,

identification

des

centres

carolingiens ayant influencé l’œuvre de Dudo de SaintQuentin’, https://doi.org:10.4000/tabularia.1496.     8 .

Albu, Normans in their Histories, pp. 7–46; Shopkow, ‘Carolingian World of Dudo of Saint-Quentin’; S. Reynolds,

‘Medieval

Origines

Gentium

and

the

Community of the Realm’, History, lxviii (1983), 375– 90.     9 .

Dudo, pp. 48–9.

  10 .

Dudo, p. 49.

  11 .

Dudo, pp. 55–85.

  12 .

F. McNair, ‘The Politics of Being Norman in the Age of Richard the Fearless, Duke of Normandy (r. 942–996)’,

Early Medieval Europe, xxiii (2013), 308–28.   13 .

Dudo, p. 122; Pohl, Dudo, pp. 194–223; B. Pohl, ‘Poetry, Punctuation and Performance: Was there an Aural Context

for

Dudo

of

Saint-Quentin’s

Historia

Normannorum?’, Autour de Serlon de Bayeux: la poésie normande

au

XIe-XIIe

siècles ,

Tabularia,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.2781.   14 .

GND, i, xxxii–xxxiv.

  15 .

GND,

ii,

158;

T.

Licence,

‘Robert

of

Jumièges,

Archbishop in Exile (1052–5)’, Anglo-Saxon England, xlii (2016), 311–29.   16 .

GND,

i,

xxxii–xxxiii,

cf.

T.

Licence,

Edward

the

Confessor (New Haven and London, 2020), pp. 298– 300.   17 .

GND, ii, 46.

  18 .

GND, ii, 38–9.

  19 .

For the construction of Richard’s image see P. Bauduin, ‘Richard II de Normandie: figure princière et transferts culturels (fin dixième-début onzième siècle)’, Anglo-

Norman Studies, xxxvii (2014), 63–82.

  20 .

GND, ii, 44–84.

  21 .

GND, i, xlix.

  22 .

GND, i, lxiii–lxiv, ii, 184–90.

  23 .

K. Lack, ‘The De Obitu Willelmi: Propaganda for the Anglo-Norman

Succession,

1087–88?’,

English

Historical Review, cxxiii (2008), 1417–56.   24 .

GND, ii, 196–288.

  25 .

The Chronography of Robert of Torigni, ed. and trans. T. N. Bisson, 2 vols (Oxford, 2020); Chronique de

Robert de Torigni, abbé du Mont-Saint-Michel suivie de divers opuscules historiques de cet auteur et de plusieurs religieux de la même abbaye, ed. L. Delisle, 2 vols, Société de l’Histoire de Normandie (Rouen, 1872– 3); D. Spear, ‘Torigni, Robert de [called Robert de Monte]’, ODNB; B. Pohl, ‘Robert of Torigni and Le Bec: the Man and the Myth’, B. Pohl and L. Gathagan (eds.),

Companion to the Abbey of Le Bec in the Central Middle Ages (Leiden, Boston, 2017), pp. 94–124.   26 .

D. Bates, ‘Robert of Torigni and the Historia Anglorum’, D. Roffe (ed.), The English and their Legacy 900–1200.

Essays in Honour of Ann Williams (Woodbridge, 2012), pp. 175–84.   27 .

F. H. M. Le Saux, A Companion to Wace (Cambridge, 2005), pp. 275–8.

  28 .

Wace, Roman de Rou, ed. A. J. Holden, 3 vols (Paris, 1970–3); The History of the Norman People. Wace’s

Roman de Rou, trans. G. S. Burgess (Woodbridge, 2004), III, lines 7131–8972.   29 .

M. Staunton, The Historians of Angevin England (Oxford, 2017), p. 37.

  30 .

F. Laurent, Pour Dieu et Le Roi: Rhétorique et idéologie

dans l’histoire des ducs de Normandie de Benoît de Sainte-Maure (Paris, 2010).   31 .

For the text see ‘The Draco Normannicus of Étienne de Rouen’, Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II

and Richard I, ed. R. Howlett, 4 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1884–9), ii, pp. 589–762; for comment most recently E. Kuhl, ‘Time and Identity in Stephen of Rouen’s Draco Normannicus’, Journal of Medieval

History, xl (2014), 421–38.

  32 .

D. Crouch, ‘The Roman des Franceis of Andrew of Coutances: Significance, Text and Translation’, D. Crouch and K. Thompson (eds.), Normandy and its

Neighbours

900–1200.

Essays

for

David

Bates

(Turnhout, 2011), pp. 175–98.   33 .

E. Van Houts, ‘Latin Poetry and the Anglo-Norman Court 1066–1135: The Carmen de Hastingae Proelio’,

Journal of Medieval History, xv (1989), 39–62.   34 .

OV, ii, 214; Carmen, p. xvii.

  35 .

Carmen, pp. xiv, xxv.

  36 .

See most recently C. Norton, ‘Viewing the Bayeux Tapestry

Now

and

Then’,

Journal of the British

Archaeological Association, clxxii (2019), 52–89.   37 .

N. K. Rollason and M. J. Lewis, ‘Harold and Aeneas? The Influence of the Aeneid on a Rescue Scene in the Bayeux Tapestry’, Greece and Rome, lxvii (2020), 203– 29.

  38 .

C. Hicks, ‘The Borders of the Bayeux Tapestry’, C. Hicks

(ed.),

England

in

the

Eleventh

Century

(Stamford, 1992), pp. 251–65; D. Terkla, ‘Cut on the

Norman Bias: Fabulous Borders and Visual Glosses on the Bayeux Tapestry’, Word and Image, xi (1995), 264– 90; G. Owen-Crocker, ‘Squawk Talk: Commentary by Birds in the Bayeux Tapestry’, Anglo-Saxon England, xxxiv (2005), 237–54.   39 .

H. Clarke, ‘The Identity of the Designer of the Bayeux Tapestry’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxv (2013), 120–39; Pastan and White, Bayeux Tapestry and its Contents, pp. 260–78. Norton, ‘Viewing the Bayeux Tapestry Now and Then’, makes the case for Bayeux cathedral. If a secular

location,

then

Odo’s

residence

at

Wickhambreaux outside Canterbury where the bishop had a park is one possibility, GDB, fol. 9r.   40 .

OV, ii, 258–60.

  41 .

E. Winkler, ‘The Norman Conquest of the Classical Past: William of Poitiers, Language and History’, Journal of

Medieval History, xlii (2016), 456–78.   42 .

P. Bouet, ‘Les Normands: le nouveau peuple élu’, P. Bouet

and

F.

Neveux

(eds.),

Les

Normands

en

Méditerranée dans le sillage de Tancrède, 2nd edn (Caen, 2001), pp. 239–52.   43 .

Dudo, p. 49.

  44 .

C. Warren Hollister, ‘Normandy, France and the AngloNorman Realm’, Speculum, li (1976), 202–42, reprinted in Hollister, Monarchy, Magnates and Institutions in the

Anglo-Norman World (London, 1986).   45 .

E. Van Houts, Memory and Gender in Medieval Europe

900–1200 (Houndmills, 1999), pp. 123–42.   46 .

GND, i, 290–304.

  47 .

The Brevis Relatio de Guillelmo nobilissorum comite Normannorum, written by a monk of Battle Abbey, ed. with a Historical Commentary, by E. Van Houts,

Camden Miscellany, Camden 5th series, x (1997), 1–48.   48 .

Brevis Relatio, pp. 28, 50.

  49 .

OV, ii, xiii; for Orderic’s life see now E. Van Houts, ‘Orderic and his Father, Odelerius’, Rozier, Gaspar, Roach and Van Houts (eds.), Orderic Vitalis, pp. 17–36.

  50 .

OV, ii, 2; iii, 6.

  51 .

OV, vi, 8.

  52 .

L. de Laborderie, ‘Convergences et divergences de points de vue: La conquête de la Normandie en 1204: dans les deux chroniques de l’Anonyme de Béthune’, A.M. Flambard-Héricher and V. Gazeau (eds.), 1204: La

Normandie entre Plantagenêts et Capétiens (Caen, 2007), pp. 189–213; G. Fedorenko, ‘The ThirteenthCentury

Chronique de Normandie’,

Anglo-Norman

Studies,

xxxv

Labory,

(2012),

163–80;

G.

‘Les

Manuscrits de la Grande Chronique de Normandie du XIVe et du XVe siècle’, Revue d’histoire des textes, xxvii (1997), 191–222; G. Labory, ‘The Norman Conquest in the Grande Chronique de Normandie’, Bouet, Levy and Neveux (eds.), Bayeux Tapestry, pp. 155–69; G. Labory, ‘La Représentation de Richard Ier dans la Grande

Chronique de Normandie’, Annales de Normandie, lxiv (2014), 87–98.   53 .

Storia de’Normanni di Amato de Montecassino, ed. V. de Bartholomeis, Fonti per la storia d’Italia (Roma, 1935),

trans.

P.

N.

Dunbar

(Woodbridge,

2004)

(hereafter Amatus); De rebus gestis Rogerii Calabriae

et Siciliae comitis et Roberti Guiscardi ducis fratris eius auctore Gaufredo Malaterra monacho Benedictino, ed. E. Pontieri, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, 2nd edn, v part 1 (Bologna, 1925–8), trans. K. B. Wolf (Ann Arbor, MI, 2005) (hereafter Malaterra); for volume one of a

new edition see Histoire du Grand Comte Roger et de

son frère Robert Guiscard by M.-A. Lucas-Avenel (Caen, 2016); M. Mathieu, Guillaume de Pouille. La Geste de

Robert Guiscard (Palermo, 1961); online translation by G.

Loud

https://ims.leeds.ac.uk/wp-

content/uploads/sites/29/2019/02/William-of-Apulia.pdf (hereafter WAp.)   54 .

C. D. Stanton, ‘Anonymus Vaticanus: Another Source for the Normans in the South?’, Haskins Society Journal, xxiv (2012), 79–93.

  55 .

Chronica Monasterii Casinensis (ed. Hoffmann); H. E. J. Cowdrey, The Age of Abbot Desiderius: Montecassino,

the Papacy and the Normans in the Eleventh and Early Twelfth

Centuries

(Oxford,

1983),

pp.

19–27;

F.

Newton, ‘The Desiderian Scriptorium at Montecassino: the “Chronicle” and some Surviving Manuscripts’,

Dumbarton Oaks Paper, xxx (1976), 35–54.   56 .

Amatus, pp. 83, 88, 91.

  57 .

Amatus, pp. 49–50.

  58 .

Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, II. 37.

  59 .

Amatus, pp. 115, 119–222.

  60 .

Amatus, p. 205.

  61 .

Malaterra, p. 42.

  62 .

Malaterra, p. 52.

  63 .

WAp., p. 31.

  64 .

M.-A. Lucas-Avenel, ‘Les Gesta Roberti Guiscardi de Guillaume de Pouille: études de quelques éléments épiques’,

De

part

et

d’autre

de

la

Normandie

médiévale. Recueil des études en hommage à François Neveux, Cahier des Annales de Normandie, xxxv (2009), 53–70.   65 .

P. Frankopan, ‘Turning Latin into Greek: Anna Komnene and the Gesta Roberti Wiscardi’, Journal of Medieval

History, xxxix (2013), 80–99. See also P. Brown, ‘The Gesta Roberti Wiscardi: A Byzantine History’, Journal of Medieval History, xxxvii (2011), 162–79.   66 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 104–6, History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 108–10.   67 .

Frankopan, ‘Turning Latin into Greek’, 98.

  68 .

OV, ii, 100.

  69 .

P. Stafford, After Alfred: Anglo-Saxon Chronicles and

Chroniclers (Oxford, 2020).   70 .

S. Vanderputten, ‘Typology of Medieval Historiography Reconsidered: A Social Re-interpretation of Monastic Annals,

Chronicles

Research/Historische

and

Gesta’,

Historical

Sozialforschung,

xxvi

Social (2001),

141–78.   71 .

R. W. Southern, ‘Aspects of the European Tradition of Historical

Writing

4.

The

Sense

of

the

Past’,

Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th series, xxiii (1973), 243–63 especially 246–56.   72 .

J. Campbell, ‘Some Twelfth-Century Views of the AngloSaxon Past’, Essays in Anglo-Saxon History (London, 1986), pp. 209–28.

  73 .

M. Brett, ‘John of Worcester and his Contemporaries’, R. H. C. Davis and J. M. Wallace-Hadrill (eds.), The

Writing

of

History

in

the

Middle

Ages:

Essays

Presented to Richard William Southern (Oxford, 1981), pp. 101–26; D. W. Rollason, ‘Symeon of Durham’s

Historia de Regibus Anglorum et Dacorum as a Product

of Twelfth-Century Historical Workshops’, M. Brett and D. A. Woodman (eds.), The Long Twelfth-Century View

of the Anglo-Saxon Past (London, New York, 2016), pp. 95–111.   74 .

WM, Gesta Pontificum, i, ed. M. Winterbottom, ii, R. M. Thomson with the assistance of M. Winterbottom (Oxford, 2007), i, 458.

  75 .

A. Lawrence-Mathers, ‘Computus and Chronology in Anglo-Norman England’, L. Cleaver and A. Worm (eds.),

Writing

History

in

the

Anglo-Norman

World

(Woodbridge, 2018), pp. 53–68.   76 .

A. Lawrence-Mathers, ‘William of Malmesbury and the Chronological

Controversy’,

R.

M.

Thomson,

E.

Dolmans and E. A. Winkler (eds.), Discovering William

of Malmesbury (Woodbridge, 2017), pp. 222–39.   77 .

C. C. Rozier, ‘Symeon of Durham as Cantor and Historian at Durham Cathedral Priory, c.1090–1129’, K. A.-M. Bugyis, A. B. Krabel and M. E. Fassler (eds.),

Medieval Cantors and their Craft: Music, Liturgy and the Shaping of History, 800–1250 (Woodbridge, 2017), pp. 190–206 and P. A. Hayward, ‘William of Malmesbury as Cantor-Historian’, pp. 190–206. For Eadmer as Cantor see Gervase of Canterbury, Actus Pontificum in

The Historical Works of Gervase of Canterbury, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1879–80), ii, p. 374.   78 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, ed. M. Rule, Rolls Series (London, 1884), trans. G. Bosanquet (London, 1964); Eadmer,

The

Life

of

St

Anselm

Archbishop

of

Canterbury, ed. and trans. R. Southern (Oxford, 1962).   79 .

M.

Staunton,

‘Eadmer’s

Vita

Anselmi:

a

Reinterpretation’, Journal of Medieval History, xxiii (1997), 1–14.   80 .

Historia Novorum (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 3–4.

  81 .

C. C. Rozier, ‘Between History and Hagiography: Eadmer of Canterbury’s Vision of the Historia Novorum

in Anglia’, Journal of Medieval History, 45 (2019), 1–19.   82 .

HH, pp. xxiii–lvii.

  83 .

For the little that is known about the family background of Eadmer, see R. W. Southern, Saint Anselm: A Portrait

in a Landscape (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 406–7; for Symeon, B. Meehan, ‘Symeon of Durham (fl. c. 1090– 1128)’, ODNB; for John, P. McGurk, ‘Worcester, John of

(fl. 1095–1140), Benedictine monk and chronicler monk at Worcester’, ODNB.   84 .

JW, ii, 598–606.

  85 .

M. Winterbottom, ‘William of Malmesbury and the Normans’, Journal of Medieval Latin, xx (2010), 70–7.

  86 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 4; ii, xxxiv–xxxv.

  87 .

M.

Schütt,

‘The

Malmesbury’s

Literary

“Gesta

Form

Regum”’,

of

William

English

of

Historical

Review, xlvi (1931), 255–60. William does not explain clearly the reasons for the change in structure, which must be inferred. He chose 1066 as the break point between books two and three. Books one and two are a chronological account of the rise and fall of the English kingdom. Book I dealt with the heptarchy and Book II dealt with the unification of the country and its history to the battle of Hastings. The focus was on kings and political

events.

Under

‘good’

kings

the

country

prospered, and under ‘bad’ kings (of whom Æthelred was a prime example) it declined. The reigns of the three Norman kings were treated selectively, as William himself indicated, but so as to indicate how kings ought to

behave.

There

was

no

joyous

end

point

of

reconciliation between Normans and English. After

dealing with the death of Prince William in the White Ship, William offered sketches of some of the saintly monks of Anglo-Norman England, and then proposed to deal with more recent events in a separate account (the

Historia Novella).   88 .

S. O. Sønnesyn, William of Malmesbury and the Ethics

of History (Woodbridge, 2012); B. Weiler, ‘William of Malmesbury on Kingship’, History, xc (2005), 3–22; J. G. Haahr,

‘The

Concept

of

Kingship

in

William

of

Malmesbury’s, Gesta Regum and Historia Novella’,

Medieval Studies, xxxviii (1976), 351–71.   89 .

T. S. Forster, ‘William of Malmesbury and Fortuna’,

Journal of Medieval History, xliv (2018), 21–38.   90 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 414–6.

  91 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 384–6.

  92 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 414.

  93 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 422.

  94 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 446.

  95 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 452–4.

  96 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 456.

  97 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 460.

  98 .

A. Cooper, ‘“The Feet of Those that Bark shall be Cut Off”: Timorous Historians and the Personality of Henry I’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxiii (2000), 47–67.

  99 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, ii, 299–300.

100 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 612.

101 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 640, 650.

102 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 690–4.

103 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 700–6.

104 .

HH, pp. 4–8.

105 .

J. Gillingham, ‘Henry of Huntingdon in His Time (1135) and Place (between Lincoln and the Royal Court)’, K. Stopka (ed.), Gallus Anonymus and his Chronicle in the

Context of Twelfth-Century Historiography from the Perspective of Latest Research (Krakow, 2010), pp. 157–72.

106 .

HH, p. 12.

107 .

HH, p. 14.

108 .

HH, p. 384.

109 .

HH, pp. 384–6.

110 .

HH, pp. 388–93.

111 .

HH, pp. 402–4.

112 .

HH, pp. 404–6.

113 .

HH, pp. 422–42.

114 .

Gaimar, pp. xii–xiii.

115 .

Gaimar, lines 5267–346.

116 .

Gaimar, lines 5347–740.

117 .

Gaimar, lines 5742–74.

118 .

Gaimar, lines 5774–82.

119 .

A copy had reached the abbey of Bec in Normandy by 1139 when it was shown to Henry of Huntingdon by Robert of Torigni, Chronography, i, 7–8; HH, p. 558.

120 .

Geoffrey of Monmouth, The History of the Kings of

Britain,

trans.

L.

Thorpe

(Harmondsworth,

1966)

(hereafter HKB), prologue, p. 4. 121 .

See most recently J. Farrell, ‘History, Prophecy and the Arthur of the Normans: the Question of Audience and Motivation behind Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia

Regum

Britanniae’,

Anglo-Norman

Studies,

xxxvii

(2014), 99–114. 122 .

P.

Dalton,

Monmouth’s

‘The

Topical

Historia

Concerns

Regum

of

Geoffrey

Britanniae:

of

History,

Prophecy, Peacemaking and English Identity in the Twelfth Century’, Journal of British Studies, xliv (2005), 688–712; J. Gillingham, ‘The Context and Purposes of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain’,

Anglo-Norman Studies, xiii (1991), 99–118. 123 .

HKB, pp. 4, 248.

124 .

HKB, pp. 4, 142.

125 .

Brut y Tywysogion or the Chronicle of the Princes. Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. and trans. T. Jones (Cardiff, 1955), pp. 27–39; Brut y Tywysogion or the

Chronicle of the Princes. Peniarth MS 20 Version, ed. and trans. T. Jones (Cardiff, 1952), pp. 15–21. 126 .

The Warenne-Hyde Chronicle, eds. E. Van Houts and R. C. Love (Oxford, 2013).

127 .

Warenne-Hyde Chronicle, pp. xxx–xxxvi.

128 .

N. R. Hodgson, ‘Reinventing Normans as Crusaders? Ralph

of

Caen’s

Gesta

Tancredi’,

Anglo-Norman

Studies, xxx (2008), 117–32. 129 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 19.

130 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 20.

131 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 3.

132 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 129–30.

133 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 158–9.

134 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 159–63.

135 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 118–21.

136 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 32–4.

137 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 101.

138 .

Hodgson, ‘Reinventing the Normans as Crusaders’, p. 124.

139 .

L. Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders? The Normans of Southern Italy and Crusading’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxviii (2015), 169–80, at p. 171.

140 .

Malaterra, pp. 109–11.

141 .

WP, p. 124.

142 .

Ralph

of

Caen,

Gesta

Tancredi,

p.

143;

Gesta

Francorum, pp. 91–2. 143 .

GND, ii, 182–4.

144 .

S. Biddlecombe, ‘Baldric of Bourgueil and the Flawed Hero’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxv (2012), 79–93.

145 .

OV, ii, 230–2.

146 .

OV, iv, 90–2.

147 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 492–512.

148 .

HH, pp. 404–6.

149 .

Dudo, pp. 29–30.

150 .

Power, The Norman Frontier in the Twelfth and Early

Thirteenth Centuries (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 224–62. 151 .

L. Grant, Architecture and Society in Normandy 1120–

1270 (New Haven and London, 2005), pp. 75–95. 152 .

WP, p. 156.

153 .

GND, ii, 82–4, 152–8.

154 .

As cited in Davis, Normans and their Myth, p. 65.

155 .

J. R. E. Bliese, ‘Rhetoric and Morale: a Study of Battle Orations from the Central Middle Ages’, Journal of

Medieval History, xv (1989), 201–26. For Serlo of Bayeux see E. Van Houts, ‘Bayeux, Serlo of (c. 1050– 1113 x 22)’, ODNB; E. Van Houts, ‘Serlo of Bayeux and England’,

Tabularia,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.2600; E. Van Houts, ‘The Fate of the Priests’ Sons in Normandy with Special Reference to Serlo of Bayeux’, Haskins Society Journal, xxv (2013), 57–106. 156 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 101.

157 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 130.

158 .

WP, pp. 124–6.

159 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 46.

160 .

HH, p. lix.

161 .

De Expugnatione Lyxbonensi, ed. C. Wendell David (New York, 1936), pp. 104–11.

162 .

Wace, Roman de Rou, III, lines 8329–704.

163 .

For Aelred’s poem see The Historical Works, trans. J. Freeland, ed. M. L. Dutton (Kalamazoo, 2005), pp. 251– 7. For an important discussion of the banners carried into battle throwing light onto the presentation of the battle by, amongst others, Aelred, Henry of Huntingdon and Richard of Hexham, see R. Sharpe, ‘Banners of the Northern Saints’, M. Coombe, A. Mouron and C.

Whitehead (eds.), The Saints of North-East England

600–1500 (Turnhout, 2017), pp. 245–303. 164 .

HH, pp. 714–5.

165 .

Richard of Hexham, ‘De Gestis Regis Stephani et de Bello Standardo’, Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen,

Henry II and Richard I (ed. Howlett), iii, 162; English Episcopal Acta, V, York 1070–1154, ed. J. Burton (Oxford, 1988), p. 122 for Hugh’s date of death, 4 July 1139. The battle occurred on 22 August 1138. 166 .

R. Sharpe, ‘People and Languages in Eleventh- and Twelfth-Century

Britain

and

Ireland:

Reading

the

Charter Evidence’, D. Broun (ed.), The Reality behind

Charter Diplomatic in Anglo-Norman Britain (Glasgow, 2011), pp. 1–119. 167 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 458–60.

168 .

OV, iv, 82.

169 .

Amatus, p. 46.

170 .

WAp., p. 3.

171 .

L. Abrams, ‘England, Normandy and Scandinavia’, C. Harper-Bill and E. Van Houts (eds.), A Companion to

the Anglo-Norman World (Woodbridge, 2003), pp. 43– 62. 172 .

OV, vi, 494.

173 .

L. Ashe, Fiction and History in England, 1066–1200 (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 207–9.

174 .

H. M. Thomas, The English and the Normans. Ethnic

Hostility, Assimilation, and Identity 1066–c. 1220 (Oxford, 2003). 175 .

E.g. Brown, Normans, p. 19. Chapter 2  The Making of Ducal Normandy

    1 .

Haskins, Normans in European History, p. 13.

    2 .

Bates, Normandy before 1066, pp. 236–41.

    3 .

Brown, Normans, pp. 23–58.

    4 .

P. Bauduin, Le Monde franc et les Vikings VIIIe-Xe

siècle (Paris, 2009).

    5 .

Bauduin, Première Normandie.

    6 .

In general see C. Potts, Monastic Revival and Regional

Identity in Early Normandy (Woodbridge, 2007); S. Herrick, Imagining the Sacred Past. Hagiography and

Power in Early Normandy (Cambridge MA and London, 2007).

On

Benedictine

abbots

see

V.

Gazeau,

Normannia monastica (Caen, 2007); also V. Gazeau, ‘Guillaume de Volpiano en Normandie: l’état des

Tabularia,

questions’,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.1756; R. Allen, ‘Les Actes des évèques d’Avranches, ca.990–1253: esquisse d’un

premier

bilan’,

Tabularia,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.639; B.-M. Tock, ‘Les Chartes originales de l’abbaye de Jumièges jusqu’en 1120’, https://doi.org./10.4000/tabularia.2068.     7 .

Haskins, Norman Institutions, p. 5.

    8 .

See

above,

pp.

8–11;

Regesta

Regum

Anglo-

Normannorum. The Acta of William I (1066–1087), ed. D. Bates (Oxford, 1998); Hagger, Norman Rule in

Normandy.     9 .

The Roman province of Dacia was mainly in modern Romania.

  10 .

Normans in Europe (ed. and trans. Van Houts), p. 15.

  11 .

L. Musset, ‘Naissance de la Normandie’, M. de Boüard (ed.), Histoire de la Normandie (Toulouse, 1970), pp. 75–130, at p. 82.

  12 .

E. Deniaux, C. Lorren, P. Bauduin and T. Jarry, La

Normandie avant les Normands de la conquête romaine à l’arrivée des Vikings (Rennes, 2002), pp. 306–8.   13 .

J. M. H. Smith, Province and Empire: Brittany and the

Carolingians (Cambridge, 1992); J. Renaud, Les Vikings en France (Rennes, 2000); P. Bauduin (ed.), Les Fondations scandinaves en Occident et les débuts du duché de Normandie (Caen, 2005); P. Bauduin, Le Monde franc et les Vikings VIIIe-Xe siècle (Paris, 2009).   14 .

Royal Frankish annals, 820, Royal Frankish Annals and

Nithard’s Histories, trans. B. W. Scholz with B. Rogers (Ann Arbor, MI, 1972).   15 .

M. Arnoux and C. Maneuvrier, ‘Le pays normand. Paysages et peuplement (IXe-XIIIe siècles)’, Tabularia, February 2003, https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.1835.

  16 .

Bauduin, Première Normandie.

  17 .

Dudo, pp. 48–9; Bauduin, Première Normandie, pp. 128–41.

  18 .

Dudo, pp. 38–9.

  19 .

J. Nelson, ‘Normandy’s Early History since Normandy

before 1066’, Crouch and Thompson (eds.), Normandy and Its Neighbours, pp. 3–15, at pp. 9–12.   20 .

According to the Planctus or lament William Longsword had been born overseas, ‘The Plaintsong of William Longsword’, Van Houts (ed. and trans.), Normans in

Europe, p. 41.   21 .

Dudo, p. 50.

  22 .

Dudo, p. 49; for the challenges presented by this text see Pohl, Dudo of St Quentin’s Historia Normannorum; Bauduin, Première Normandie, pp. 61–93; E. Searle, ‘Fact and Fiction in Heroic Poetry: Dudo of SaintQuentin’, Viator, xv (1984), 119–38; Shopkow, ‘The Carolingian World of Dudo of Saint-Quentin’; Albu,

Normans in their Histories, pp. 1–46; P. Bouet, ‘Dudon de Saint-Quentin et Virgile: l’Éneide au service de la cause normande’, Cahier des Annales de Normandie, xxiii (1990), pp. 215–36; L. Shopkow, History and

Community: Norman Historical Writing in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Washington, 1997), pp. 68–79.   23 .

For the Latin text see Ademari Cabannensis Chronicon, ed. P. Bourgain with R. Landes and G. Pon, Corpus Christianorum,

Continuatio

Mediaevalis,

cxxix

(Turnhout, 1999); Les Annales de Flodoard, ed. P. Lauer (Paris, 1905); for an English translation see The Annals

of Flodoard of Reims 919–966, trans. S. Fanning and B. S. Bachrach (Peterborough, ON, 2004); Adhémar de Chabannes, Chronique, ed. J. Chavanon (Paris, 1897); Richer of Saint-Rémi, Histories, ed. and trans. J. Lake, 2 vols (Cambridge, 2011); Inventio et Miracula Sancti

Vulfranni, ed. J. Laporte, Société de l’Histoire de Normandie, Mélanges, xiv (1938); for the Planctus, see J. Lair, Etude sur la vie et la mort de Guillaume Longue-

épée, duc de Normandie (Paris, 1893), pp. 61–70; E. Van Houts, ‘The Planctus on the Death of William Longsword [943] as a Source for Tenth-Century Culture in Normandy and Aquitaine’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxvi (2013), 1–22.   24 .

Dudo, p. 49.

  25 .

For recent reviews see L. Abrams, ‘Early Normandy’,

Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxv (2012), 45–64 at 53–6; L. Abrams, ‘The Study of Scandinavian Settlement in the

Viking Age: Historiographical Perspectives on the Application of Place-Names in England and Normandy’, P. Bauduin and E. D’Angelo (eds.), Historiographies des

Mondes Normands, pp. 263–94; D. Bates, Normandy before

1066

(London,

1982),

pp.

16–19;

F.

de

Beaurepaire, ‘la Diffusion de la toponymie scandinave dans

la

Normandie

Tabularia,

ducale’,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.1760.

The

classic

study remains J. Adigard des Gautries, Les Noms de

personnes en Normandie de 911 à 1066 (Copenhagen, 1954).   26 .

J. Graham-Campbell, ‘Les Traces archéologiques des peuplements scandinaves en Occident’, Bauduin (ed.),

Les Fondations scandinaves, pp. 13–23; L. MazetHarhoff, ‘The Incursion of the Vikings into the Natural and

Cultural

Landscape

of

Upper

Normandy’,

I.

Skibsted Klæsøe (ed.), Viking Trade and Settlement in

Continental Western Europe (Copenhagen, 2010), 81– 122; P. Bauduin, ‘Chefs normands et élites franques, fin IXe

siècle-début

Xe

siècle’,

Bauduin

(ed.),

Les

Fondations scandinaves, pp. 181–94; D. Hadley, The Vikings in England: Settlement, Society and Culture (Manchester, 2006); J. Kershaw,

Viking Identities:

Scandinavian Jewellery in England (Oxford, 2013); D. Hadley, The Northern Danelaw: Its Social Structure c.

800–1100 (Leicester, 2000).

  27 .

J. Yver, ‘Les premières institutions du duché de Normandie’, Settimane di Centro Italiano di Studi

sull’Alto Medioevo, xvi (Spoleto, 1969), 299–366; M. de Boüard, ‘De la Neustrie Carolingienne à la Normandie féodale: continuité ou discontinuité’, [Bulletin of the

Institute of] Historical Research, xxviii (1955), 1–14.   28 .

Judicial and financial rights and control of fortifications have been most recently surveyed by Hagger, Norman

Rule in Normandy, pp. 492, 585–7, 443, 639.   29 .

Abrams, ‘Early Normandy’, pp. 59–64.

  30 .

The best guides to these complicated events are the essays by Jean Dunbabin and David Bates in New

Cambridge Medieval History, III, c. 900–1024, pp. 372– 97,

398–419;

M.

Hagger,

‘Confrontation

and

Unification: Approaches to the Political History of Normandy, 911–1035’, History Compass, xi (2013), 429–42; E. Searle, ‘Frankish Rivalries and Norse Warriors’, Anglo-Norman Studies, viii (1985), 198–213; Bauduin, La Première Normandie; Nelson, ‘Normandy’s Early

History

before

Normandy

before

1066’,

Normandy and Its Neighbours, pp. 3–15. For the title Count of Rouen see R. Helmerichs, ‘Princeps, comes,

dux Normannorum: Early Rollonid Designators and

their Significance’, Haskins Society Journal, ix (2001), 57–77; Recueil des actes des ducs de Normandie de

911 à 1066, ed. M. Fauroux (Caen, 1961), pp. 49–50.   31 .

Flodoard, 6F, 7C, pp. 12, 13.

  32 .

Dudo, pp. 66–7.

  33 .

Dudo, pp. 67–8.

  34 .

Dudo, p. 69.

  35 .

Dudo, pp. 79–85.

  36 .

Bauduin, Première Normandie, pp. 145–61.

  37 .

Dudo, pp. 98–102; Flodoard, 25A, p. 37.

  38 .

Flodoard, 25B, p. 38.

  39 .

Flodoard, 25B, p. 38; S. M. Lewis, ‘Death on the Seine: the Mystery of the Pagan King Setric’, Northern

History, lv (2018), 44–60.   40 .

Flodoard 27E, p. 42.

  41 .

Flodoard 26I, pp. 40–1.

  42 .

Flodoard 27E–27G, pp. 42–3.

  43 .

Flodoard, 25B p. 38.

  44 .

Dudo, pp. 152–62; GND, i, 120–9.

  45 .

Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, pp. 266–88; McNair, ‘The Politics of being Norman in the Age of Richard the Fearless, duke of Normandy (r. 942–996)’; Helmerichs,

‘Princeps,

comes, dux

Normannorum:

Early Rollonid Designators and their Significance’.   46 .

McNair, ‘The Politics of being Norman’.

  47 .

Dudo, p. 112; Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, pp. 48–9.

  48 .

Dudo, p. 49 (911); Flodoard, 6F, p. 12 (924); 15B, p. 23 (933); Bates, Normandy before 1066, p. 9. For a recent review, see A. Dymond, ‘Norman Ducal Property in the Tenth

and

Eleventh

Centuries:

a

Spatial

and

Chronological Analysis’, Haskins Society Journal, xxix (2017), 81–115. This demonstrates that, as might be expected, the heartland of the original ducal estates was in upper Normandy and the Seine valley.

  49 .

Bauduin, Première Normandie, pp. 177–318.

  50 .

Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, pp. 67–8; E. Van Houts, ‘Robert of Torigni as Genealogist’, C. HarperBill, C. J. Holdsworth and J. L. Nelson (eds.), Studies in

Medieval

History

(Woodbridge, ‘Countess

presented

1989),

Gunnor

pp. of

to

R.

215–33;

E.

Normandy

(c.

Allen

Brown

Van

Houts,

950–1031)’,

Collegium Médiévale, xii (1999), 7–24.   51 .

G. Louise, La Seigneurie de Bellême Xe–XIIe siècles:

dévolution des pouvoirs territoriaux et construction d’une seigneurie de frontière aux confins de la Normandie et du Maine à la charnière de l’an mil, Pays Bas Normand, nos. 199–202 (1990, 1991).   52 .

R. N. Sauvage, L’Abbaye de Saint-Martin de Troarn au

diocèse de Bayeux, des origines au seizième siècle (Caen, 1911), p. 352; K. Thompson, ‘The Norman Aristocracy

before

1066:

The

Example

of

the

Montgomerys’, Historical Research, lx (1987), 251–63.   53 .

The two most important studies of this family include: J.-M. Maillefer, ‘Une famille aristocratique aux confins de la Normandie: Les Géré au XIe siècle’, L. Musset, J.M. Bouvris and J.-M. Maillefer (eds.), Autour du pouvoir

ducal normand Xe-XIIe siècles, Cahier des Annales de Normandie, xvii (Caen, 1985), 175–206; P. Bauduin, ‘Une famille chatelaine sur les confins normannomanceaux:

les

Géré

(Xe-XIIIe

s.)’,

Archéologie

médiévale, xxii (1992), 309–356.   54 .

Brown, Normans, p. 34.

  55 .

C. B. Bouchard, Those of My Blood. Constructing Noble

Families in Medieval Francia (Philadelphia, 2001), pp. 13–38.   56 .

Dudo, pp. 137, 149.

  57 .

GND, i, 130; OV, iv, 208.

  58 .

GND, i, 128–30; ii, 266–75 (an interpolation by Robert of Torigny); T. Stasser, ‘“Mathilde, fille du comte Richard”:

Essai

d’Identification’,

Annales

de

Normandie, xl (1990), 49–64.   59 .

Van Houts, ‘Robert of Torigni as Genealogist’. Robert’s extended treatment of Duchess Gunnor, included in the book on Henry I, book viii added to the Gesta

Normannorum Ducum, as well as the shorter version in book iv, is particularly striking. The oldest manuscript in which this is included, Leiden University Library MS

BPL 20, was one of the earliest in which his hand has been detected. He began his version of the GND around 1139, but made additions for over twenty years, GND, i, lxxix–lxxx. A special interest in Gunnor would have been particularly appropriate at Mont-Saint-Michel where he became abbot in 1154. For the possibility that Leiden MS BPL20 was loaned from Bec to the Mont, see B. Pohl, ‘Abbas qui et Scriptor? The Handwriting of Robert of Torigni and his Scribal Activity as Abbot of Mont-Saint-Michel (1154–86)’, Traditio, lxix (2014), 45– 86, at pp. 58–64. For comment see T. N. Bisson, ‘The Scripts of Robert of Torigni: Some Notes of Conjectural History’,

Tabularia,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.3938. The link between Gunnor, Abbot Robert and MontSaint-Michel raises the further question of his role in the cartulary Avranches MS 210 with its famous illustrations of the duchess. The cartulary and its illustrations are usually associated with Robert’s period as abbot, M. Dosdat, L’enluminure romane au Mont-

Saint-Michel Xe-XIIe siècles (Rennes-Avranches, 1991), 72–81. They include not only Gunnor but also Richard I, Richard II and Robert, making a visual statement about the Norman dukes (and one duchess) as benefactors during a period when the abbey probably had closer links with the counts of Rennes. For the early history of the abbey see C. Potts, Monastic Revival and Regional

Identity in Early Normandy (Woodbridge, 1997), pp. 81–104. In 1156 the count of Brittany died, and a disputed succession ensued, resolved in 1158 when the Bretons submitted to Henry at Mont-Saint-Michel, Robert of Torigny, Chronique, ed. L. Delisle, 2 vols (Rouen, 1872, 1873), i, 313. It was a time when the abbot, who had been recruited from Bec and was close to Henry II, might well have wished to highlight the credentials of the Normans as patrons. For relations between Robert and Henry see V. Gazeau, Normannia

monastica, 2 vols (Caen, 2007), i, 323–6.   60 .

E. Searle, Predatory Kinship and the Creation of

Norman Power 840–1066 (Berkeley and London, 1988).   61 .

F. Neveux, La Normandie des ducs aux rois (Rennes, 1998), pp. 230–1.

  62 .

Warner of Rouen, Moriuht poem, Normans in Europe (ed. and trans. Van Houts), pp. 92–5. For the slave market see L. Musset, ‘Réflexions autour du problème de servage et de l’esclavage en Normandie ducale XeXIIe siècles’, L. Musset, J.-M. Bouvris, V. Gazeau,

Aspects de la société et de l’économie dans la Normandie médiévale Xe-XIIIe siècles, Cahier des annales de Normandie, xxii (1988), 5–24 at 6–9.

  63 .

Musset, ‘Réflexions autour du problème de l’esclavage’; M. Arnoux, ‘Classe agricole, pouvoir seigneurial et autorité ducale’, Le Moyen Âge, xcviii (1992), 35–60 at 45–55.

  64 .

GND, ii, 8; Liber de Revelatione, aedificatione et auctoritate Fiscannensis monasterii, PL, cli, cols. 701– 24; Wace, Roman de Rou, part III, lines 815–98.

  65 .

B. Gowers, ‘996 and All That: the Norman Peasants Reconsidered’, Early Medieval Europe, xxi (2013), 71– 98.

  66 .

M. Arnoux, ‘Rustici et homines liberi: où sont passés les serfs normands?’, Mélanges de l’École Française de

Rome, Moyen Âge, cxii (2000), 563–77.   67 .

Searle, Predatory Kinship and the Creation of Norman

Power, pp. 159–77.   68 .

OV, ii, 22–30.

  69 .

Malaterra, p. 54.

  70 .

G. Duby, ‘Au XIIe siècle: Les “jeunes” dans la société aristocratique’,

Annales:

Economies,

sociétés,

civilisations, xix (1964), 835–46; Bartlett, Making of Europe, pp. 43–51. Examples include Roger I de Tosny (d. 1040) who had six sons and two daughters, L. Musset, ‘Aux origines d’une classe dirigeante: les Tosny, grands barons normands du Xe aux XIIIe siècles’,

Francia, v (1977), 45–79, chart on p. 57; Hugh de Grandmesnil had two brothers and one sister, plus five sons and two daughters, M. Hagger, ‘Kinship and Identity in Eleventh-Century Normandy: The Case of Hugh de Grandmesnil, c. 1040–1098’, Journal

of

Medieval History, xxxii (2006), 212–30.   71 .

R. Généstal, Le parage normand (Caen, 1911); J. Yver,

Égalité entre héritiers et exclusion des enfants dotés (Paris, 1966).   72 .

Bouchard, Those of My Blood, pp. 168–73; S. D. White,

Custom, Kinship, and Gifts to Saints. The Laudatio Parentum in Western Fance, 1050–1150 (Chapel Hill, 1988), pp. 130–76.   73 .

English Historical Documents, I, c. 500–1042, ed. D. Whitelock (London, 1955), no. 237, p. 844.

  74 .

Dudo, p. 15.

  75 .

Bede

to

Archbishop

Ecgbert,

English

Historical

Documents, I, 741.   76 .

Malaterra, pp. 53–4.

  77 .

Malaterra, pp. 77–8.

  78 .

Malaterra, pp. 53–4.

  79 .

Malaterra, pp. 59–60, 66.

  80 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 460.

  81 .

OV, iv, 82.

  82 .

Amatus, pp. 100–1; WAp., pp. 20–1; for Hastings see the relevant scenes in the Bayeux Tapestry (ed. Wilson), plates 60–9 noting the different ways lances are used, both over- and under-arm; for discussion, R. Allen Brown, ‘The Battle of Hastings’, in S. Morillo (ed.), The

Battle of Hastings (Woodbridge, 1996), pp. 195–218 at p. 210.   83 .

R. H. C. Davis, The Medieval Warhorse (London, 1989), pp. 55–9; R. H. C. Davis, ‘The Warhorses of the Normans’, Anglo-Norman Studies, x (1987), 67–82. On

p. 68 Davis commented that there were at least 179 horses on the main tapestry, all of which were stallions.   84 .

Davis, ‘Warhorses of the Normans’, p. 76.

  85 .

Amatus, p. 84.

  86 .

D. Bates, ‘West Francia: The Northern Principalities’,

New Cambridge Medieval History, III, 398–419; D. Nicholas, Medieval Flanders (London, 1992), chapter 3; B. S. Bachrach, Statebuilding in Medieval France:

Studies in Early Angevin History (Aldershot, 1995), chapter 3; R. Barton, Lordship in the County of Maine,

c. 890–1160 (Woodbridge, 2004), chapters 2–5; R. Latouche, Histoire du comté du Maine pendant le Xe et

le XI siècle (Paris, 1910); H. J. Tanner, Families, Friends and Allies: Boulogne and Politics in Northern France and England c. 879–1160 (Leiden, Boston, 2004), chapter 2; K. Thompson, Power and Border Lordship in

Medieval France (Woodbridge, 2002), chapter 1; M. Bur, La Formation du comté de Champagne v. 950–1150 (Nancy, 1977).   87 .

Nicholas, Medieval Flanders, pp. 13–20.

  88 .

E. Oksanen, Flanders and the Anglo-Norman World,

1066–1216 (Cambridge, 2012), pp. 145–77; E. Van

Houts, ‘The Flemish Contribution to Biographical Writing in England in the Eleventh Century’, in D. Bates, J. Crick and S. Hamilton (eds.), Writing Medieval

Biography 750–1250: Essays in Medieval History in Honour of Professor Frank Barlow (Woodbridge, 2006), pp. 118–27.   89 .

Oksanen, Flanders and the Anglo-Norman World, pp. 11–15; Geffrei Gaimar, Estoire des Engleis. History of

the English, ed. and trans. I. Short (Oxford, 2009), p. 280; WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 420.   90 .

Orderic thought that Tostig travelled to Normandy early in 1066 to seek an alliance with Duke William, OV, ii, 140–4. It is not improbable that Tostig did offer himself as a substitute for his faithless brother Harold, but that William sent him on his way shows that he was unwilling to share power.

  91 .

Oksanen, Flanders and the Anglo-Norman World, pp. 180–97; R. Nip, ‘The Political Relations between England and Flanders (1066–1128)’, Anglo-Norman

Studies, xxi (1998), 145–67 at pp. 151–3; K. S. B. KeatsRohan, ‘The Portrait of a People: Norman Barons Revisited’, E. Hallam and D. Bates (eds.), Domesday

Book (Stroud, 2001), pp. 121–40.

  92 .

E. Van Houts, ‘The Anglo-Flemish Treaty of 1101’,

Anglo-Norman Studies, xxi (1998), 169–74.   93 .

JW, iii, 124–6, 228; Oksanen, Flanders and the Anglo-

Norman

World,

pp.

183–4,

213–18;

L.

Toorians,

‘Flemish Settlements in Twelfth-Century Scotland’,

Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, lxxix (1996), 659–93.   94 .

ASC E 1085; WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 480.

  95 .

AC, pp. 229, 232–3, 252.

  96 .

K. Ciggaar, ‘Flemish Mercenaries in Byzantium: their Later History in an Old Norse Miracle’, Byzantion, li (1981), 44–74.

  97 .

Smith, Province and Empire, chapter 7.

  98 .

A. Williams, ‘Ralph the Staller Earl of East Anglia (d. 1068 x 70)’, ODNB.

  99 .

WP, p. 130.

100 .

K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, ‘The Bretons and Normans of England 1066–1154: The Family, the Fief and the

Feudal Monarchy’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, xxxvi (1992), 42–78; J. A. Green, The Government of England

under Henry I (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 146–9; L.-R. Ménager,

‘Inventaire

des

familles

normandes

et

franques émigrées en Italie méridionale et en Sicile (XI–XII siècles)’, Roberto il Guiscardo e il suo tempo:

relazione e communicazione nelle prime giornate normanno-sveve, Bari maggio 1973 (Rome, 1975), pp. 259–300; C. W. David lists the Breton companions of Robert Curthose on the First Crusade: Alan, steward of the archbishop of Dol, Duke Alan Fergant, Ralph de Gael and his son Alan, Conan de Lamballe, Hervé son of Dodeman, Riou de Lohéac, Robert Curthose Duke of

Normandy (Cambridge, MA, 1920), pp. 221–9. 101 .

R. Barton, ‘The Actus Pontificum Cenomannis and the Lords of Mayenne’, P. Bauduin, G. Combalbert, A. Dubois, B. Garnier and C. Maneuvrier (eds.), Sur les

pas de Lanfranc du Bec à Caen, Recueil d’études en hommage à Véronique Gazeau, Cahier des Annales de Normandie, xxxvii (2018), 575–84. 102 .

Abrams, ‘England, Normandy and Scandinavia’, pp. 54– 8.

103 .

L. Abrams, ‘Diaspora and Identity in the Viking Age’,

Early Medieval Europe, xx (2012), 17–38 at 38.

104 .

L. Abrams, ‘Diaspora and Identity in the Viking Age’.

105 .

GND, ii, 10–18; English Historical Documents, I, c. 500– 1042, no. 230, pp. 823–4; L. Abrams, ‘England, Normandy and Scandinavia’, Companion to the Anglo-

Norman World, pp. 43–62. 106 .

ASC E 1002.

107 .

Dudo, pp. 58, 60, 61–3, 69, 77, 78, 79, 96, 98, 99, 121;

GND, ii, 56–9, 78, 162–5. 108 .

P. Feuchère, ‘Une tentative manquée de concentration territoriale entre Somme et Seine: La principauté d’Amiens-Valois au XIe siècle’, Le Moyen Âge, lx (1954), 1–37;

R.

Merlet,

Les

Comtes

de

Chartres,

de

Châteaudun et de Blois (Chartres, 1900). 109 .

Dudo, pp. 9–13, 90–2, 166–7; D. S. Spear, The Personnel

of the Norman Cathedrals during the Ducal Period, 911–1024 (London, 2006), p. 196; F. Neveux, La Normandie des ducs aux rois (Xe–XII siècle) (Rennes, 1998), p. 276. 110 .

Dudo, p. 51.

111 .

Dudo, pp. 76–8.

112 .

M. Hagger, ‘The Norman Vicomte c. 1035–1135: What Did He Do?’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxix (2007), 65– 83.

113 .

The classic study is by F. Dumas, ‘Les Monnaies Normandes (Xe au XII siècles) avec un répertoire des trouvailles’, Revue numismatique, xxi (1979), 106–37; F. Dumas, Le Trésor de Fécamp et le monnayage en

Francie occidentale pendante la seconde moitié du Xe siècle (Paris, 1971). 114 .

J. Yver, ‘Les Châteaux forts en Normandie jusqu’au milieu du XII siècle’, Bulletin de la Société des

Antiquaires de Normandie, liii (1955), 28–115; A. Renoux, Fécamp, du Palais ducal au palais de Dieu (Paris, 1991); J. Le Maho, ‘La “Tour de Rouen”, Palais du duc Richard Ier ( † 996)’, La Normandie vers l’An

Mil, Société de l’Histoire de Normandie (2000), pp. 73– 5. 115 .

Malaterra, p. 75.

116 .

GND, ii, 126; OV, ii, 312; D. Bates, William the Conqueror (New Haven and London, 2016), pp. 155–7.

117 .

Bates, William the Conqueror, p. 156.

118 .

E. Z. Tabuteau, Transfers of Property in Eleventh-

Century Normandy (Chapel Hill and London, 1988), pp. 92–4, 96–7. 119 .

Radulfus Glaber, Opera, eds. and trans. J. France, N. Bulst and P. Reynolds (Oxford, 1989), pp. 96–101.

120 .

Amatus, pp. 50–1; OV, ii, 56.

121 .

OV, ii, 78–80, 90, 104–6.

122 .

OV, ii, 90. Chapter 3  Swords for Hire

    1 .

J. F. Haldon, Warfare, State and Society in the

Byzantine World 560–1204 (London, 1999).     2 .

Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 117–20.

    3 .

G.

Theotokis,

‘Rus,

Varangian

and

Frankish

Mercenaries in the Service of the Byzantine Emperors (9th–11th c.)’, Byzantina Σγmmeikta, xxii (2012), 125– 56; J. Godfrey, ‘The Defeated Anglo-Saxons Take Service with the Eastern Emperor’, [Proceedings of the

Battle Conference on] Anglo-Norman Studies, i (1978), 63–74, 207–9; J. Shepard, ‘The English and Byzantium: A Study of their Role in the Byzantine Army in the Later Eleventh Century’, Traditio, xxix (1973), 53–92.     4 .

C. Krag, ‘Harold Hardrada [Haraldr inn Harðráði, Haraldr Sigurðson] (1015–1066)’, ODNB; K. DeVries,

The

Norwegian

Invasion

of

England

in

1066

(Woodbridge, 1999), pp. 23–68.     5 .

OV, iv, 16; Malaterra, pp. 157–9.

    6 .

J. Shepard, ‘The Uses of the Franks in Eleventh-Century Byzantium’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xv (1992), 277–8.

    7 .

A. Olson, ‘Working with Roman History: Attaleiates’ Portrayal of the Normans’, Byzantine and Modern

Greek Studies, xli (2017), 1–14.     8 .

J. Shepard, ‘The Uses of the Franks in Eleventh-Century Byzantium’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xv (1993), 275– 305.

    9 .

Amatus, p. 66.

  10 .

John Skylitzes, A Synopsis of Byzantine History, 811–

1057, trans. J. Wortley (Cambridge, 2010), p. 436.

  11 .

Skylitzes, p. 452.

  12 .

Skylitzes, p. 453.

  13 .

G. Schlumberger, ‘Deux Chefs Normands des Armées Byzantines au XI siècle: Sceaux de Hervé et de Raoul de Bailleul’, Revue Historique, xvi (1881), 289–303.

  14 .

Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades 10th to

12th Centuries. The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, trans. Ara Edmond Dostourian (Belmont, MA, 1993), p. 101.   15 .

Malaterra, p. 109.

  16 .

Michael Attaleiates, The History, trans. A. Kaldellis and D. Krallis (Cambridge, MA 2012), cap. 20, p. 271.

  17 .

Attaleiates, cap. 23, pp. 333–5.

  18 .

Attaleiates, cap. 23, pp. 345–51.

  19 .

Attaleiates, cap. 25, pp. 361–5; cap. 26, pp. 377–8; cap. 31, pp. 461–5; AC, pp. 32–7, 73.

  20 .

Attaleiates, cap. 32, pp. 489–91.

  21 .

S. Barton, ‘Spain in the Eleventh Century’, New

Cambridge Medieval History, IV, part 2, 175–8.   22 .

Suger, Vie de Louis VI le Gros, ed. H. Waquet (Paris, 1929), pp. 24–9, 30–5; The Deeds of Louis the Fat, trans. R. C. Cusimano with J. Moorhead (Washington, 1992), pp. 34–5, 37–9.

  23 .

H. E. J. Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VI, 1073–1085 (Oxford, 1998), pp. 60–1, 330–1.

  24 .

Rotrou was a cousin of King Alfonso I of Aragon, OV, vi, 394–6, 398–402.

  25 .

OV, vi, 402–4.

  26 .

D. Crouch, The Beaumont Family. The Roots and

Branches of Power in the Twelfth Century (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 127–9; GDB, fol. 234v.   27 .

Amatus, pp. 46–7; Psellus, Fourteen Byzantine Rulers (trans. Sewter), pp. 363–4.

  28 .

S. Barton, ‘Spain in the Eleventh Century’, New

Cambridge Medieval History, IV part 2, 175–6. For the Normans in Spain see now L. Villegas-Aristizabal,

‘Normans

and

Anglo-Norman

Intervention

in

the

Iberian Wars of Reconquest before and after the First Crusade’, Hurlock and Oldfield (eds.), Crusading and

Pilgrimage in the Norman World, pp. 103–22. For the letters of Pope Alexander II about wars against the Saracens in Spain see Epistolae Pontificum Romanorum

Ineditae, ed. S. Lowenfeld (Leipzig, 1885), nos. 82–3, pp. 43–4; PL, cxlvi, no. 101, cols. 1386D–1387A; for discussion of the siege of Barbastro see A. Ferreiro, ‘The Siege of Barbastro 1064–5: a Reassessment’,

Journal of Medieval History, ix (1983), 129–44.   29 .

La Chronique de Sainte-Barbe-en-Auge, ed. R. N. Sauvage (Caen, 1907), pp. 57–8; E. Amsellem, ‘Les Stigand: Des Normands à Constantinople’, Revue des

études byzantines, lvii (1999), 283–8.   30 .

Recueil des Actes des Ducs de Normandie, nos. 107 (witness to a charter approved by Duke William making gifts to Saint-Ouen de Rouen), 158 (the duke, duchess and their son Robert consented to the donations by Stigand to Saint-Ouen in memory of his son Odo. Odo Stigand endowed the church at Saint-Martin d’Ecajeul with the duke’s consent with six canons).

  31 .

J. H. Round, Calendar of Documents Preserved in

France (London, 1899), pp. 197–8.

  32 .

A. Williams, ‘Swein [Sweyn], earl’, ODNB.

  33 .

E. Van Houts, ‘Hereward and Flanders’, Anglo-Saxon

England, xxviii (1999), 201–23.   34 .

Liber Eliensis, ed. E. O. Blake, Camden Society, 3rd Series, xcii (1962), p. 192; H. M. Thomas, ‘ The Significance

and

Fate

of

the

Native

English

Landholders of 1086’, English Historical Review, cxviii (2003), 303–33.   35 .

Reginald of Durham, ‘Vita S. Godrici’, ed. J. Stevenson,

Surtees Society, xx (1847).   36 .

AA, pp. 646–8.

  37 .

P. Stafford, Queen Emma and Queen Edith (Oxford, 1997), p. 111.

  38 .

OV, vi, 168. He also added those who had risen in Apulia through Sichelgaita, though their situation was not precisely the same, as Marjorie Chibnall pointed out, OV, vi, 168 n. 3.

  39 .

C. P. Lewis, ‘The French in England before the Norman Conquest’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xvii (1995), 123–44;

J. H. Round, ‘Normans under Edward the Confessor’,

Feudal England. Historical Studies on the XIth and XIIth Centuries (London, 1985), pp. 317–31.   40 .

The Chronicle of John of Worcester, ii, ed. R. R. Darlington (Oxford, 1995) p. 572 (hereafter JW). Osbern Pentecost and Hugh surrendered their castles.

  41 .

For the distinction between mercenaries and other paid soldiers

see

K.

DeVries,

‘Medieval

Mercenaries:

Methodology, Definitions, and Problems’, J. France (ed.), Mercenaries and Paid Men: The Mercenary

Identity in the Middle Ages (Leiden, Boston, 2008), pp. 43–60.   42 .

WP, p. 168; OV, ii, 196.

  43 .

OV, ii, 220.

  44 .

Attaleiates, p. 333.

  45 .

For a recent review of numbers see Bates, William the

Conqueror, pp. 228–9.   46 .

C.

Wickham,

Medieval Europe

London, 2016), p. 118.

(New

Haven

and

  47 .

L. Villegas-Aristizabal, ‘Norman and Anglo-Norman Participation

in

the

Iberian

Reconquista,

c.1018–

c.1248’, unpublished University of Nottingham PhD thesis (2007), chapter 2 for a re-examination of the evidence.   48 .

Amatus, pp. 49–50; L. Musset, ‘Recherches sur les pèlerins et les pèlerinages en Normandie jusqu’à la Première Croisade’, Annales de Normandie, xii (1962), 127–50 at 141–2 for Normans at Monte Gargano.

  49 .

OV, ii, 100.

  50 .

D. Callahan, ‘The Cult of St Michael the Archangel and the “Terrors of the Year 1000”, R. Landes, A. Gow and D. C. Van Meter (eds.), The Apocalyptic Year 1000:

Religious Expectation and Social Change, 950–1050 (Oxford, 2003), pp. 181–204; T. Head and R. Landes (eds.), The Peace of God: Social Violence and Religious

Response in France around the Year 1000 (Ithaca and London, 1992); A. Vauchez, ‘Saints and Pilgrimages: New and Old’, Christianity in Western Europe c.1100–

c.1500, M. Rubin and W. Simons (eds.), Cambridge History of Christianity, IV (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 324– 339; P. Bouet, G. Otranto and A. Vauchez (eds.), Culte et

pèlerinages à Saint Michel en occident: les trois monts

dédiés à l’archange (Rome, 2003); L. Sinisi, ‘Beyond Rome: the Cult of the Archangel Michael and the Pilgrimage to Apulia’, F. Tinti (ed.), England and Rome

in the Early Middle Ages. Pilgrimage, Art and Politics (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 43–68; D. J. Birch, Pilgrimage to

Rome in the Middle Ages: Continuity and Change (Woodbridge, 2000).   51 .

Musset, ‘Recherches sur les pèlerins et les pèlerinages en Normandie jusqu’à la première croisade’; K. Allen Smith, ‘Architectural Mimesis at the Abbey of MontSaint-Michel’, K. Allen Smith and S. Wells (eds.),

Negotiating Community and Difference in Medieval Europe: Gender, Power, Patronage and the Authority of Religion in Latin Christendom (Leiden, Boston, 2009), pp. 65–82.   52 .

J. Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades (London, 2003), p. 45: the Byzantine emperor made a concordat with the Fatimid ruler in 1027 as a result of which the overland route to the Holy Land became more secure.

  53 .

Robert I, GND, ii, 78–85; E. Van Houts, ‘Normandy and Byzantium in the Eleventh Century’, Byzantion, lv (1985),

544–59.

Other

notable

pilgrims

include

Sihtrygg, King of Dublin, Annals of Tigernach, 1128, https://celt.ucc.ie//published/T100002A/index.html;

King Cnut, ASC D, E, 1031, prob. 1027; Swein Godwinson, ASC C, 1052; Tostig Godwinson, ASC D, 1061.   54 .

Louise, La Seigneurie de Bellême XIe–XIIe Siècles, i, 279–338; K. Thompson, ‘Family and Influence to the South of Normandy in the Eleventh Century: the Lordship of Bellême’, Journal of Medieval History, xi (1985), 215–26.

  55 .

OV, ii, 22.

  56 .

J. Decaëns, ‘Le Patrimoine des Grentemesnils en Normandie, en Italie et en Angleterre aux XIe et XIIe siècles’, Bouet and Neveux (eds.), Les Normands en

Méditerranée, pp. 123–40 at p. 126; GND, ii, 96; Recueil des Actes des Ducs de Normandie 911–1066, no. 122, pp. 287–92; Hagger, ‘Kinship and Identity in Eleventh-Century Normandy’, pp. 216–17.   57 .

OV, ii, 106, 130; Bauduin, La Première Normandie, pp. 274–5.

  58 .

OV, ii, 174, 220.

  59 .

At Ware, Hugh had succeeded Anschil by means of an exchange with Ralph Taillebois, who had succeeded to

Anschil’s lands. The nucleus of Hugh’s lands in Northants., Gloucs., Warwicks. and Worcs. had been the lands of Baldwin, probably Baldwin son of Herluin. Herluin accompanied Brichtheah of Worcester as an escort of Gunnhildr in 1036 to her marriage to Henry, son of the Emperor Conrad, see GDB (Phillimore edn) Warwicks., note to 18,7.   60 .

OV, iv, 230, 336–40, v, 34.

  61 .

Malaterra, p. 97 mentions Arnold’s presence in 1062.

  62 .

OV, ii, 40–2.

  63 .

OV, ii, 94–8; Amatus, p. 120.

  64 .

OV, ii, 98–102.

  65 .

Tilleul is now part of Saint-Georges-en-Auge, only a few miles north of Grandmesnil; OV, ii, 220; cf. L. C. Loyd,

The Origins of Some Anglo-Norman Families, eds. C. T. Clay and D. C. Douglas, Harleian Society, ciii (Leeds, 1951), p. 85.   66 .

OV, iv, 138.

  67 .

OV, ii, 220.

  68 .

OV, iii, 118, 226; iv, 142.

  69 .

OV, iv, 138.

  70 .

GDB, I, fol. 269r.

  71 .

GDB, I, fol. 264v, 269r. C. P. Lewis, ‘The Shape of the Norman

Principality

of

Gwynedd’,

Stringer

and

Jotischky (eds.), The Normans and the ‘Norman Edge’:

Peoples, Polities and Identities on the Frontiers of Medieval Europe (Abingdon, New York, 2019), pp. 100– 28.   72 .

OV, iv, 136–46.

  73 .

OV, ii, 58–60.

  74 .

OV, ii, 58; Amatus, pp. 147–52.

  75 .

OV, ii, 62–4.

  76 .

E. Van Houts, ‘The Writing of History at Le Bec’, B. Pohl (ed.), A Companion to the Abbey of Le Bec in the

Central Middle Ages (Leiden, Boston, 2018), pp. 125– 43.

  77 .

Vita Herluini, The Works of Gilbert Crispin, eds. A. S. Abulafia and G. R. Evans (Oxford, 1986), pp. 182–212.

  78 .

‘Quo B. Maria subvenit Guillelmo Crispino Seniori; ubi de nobili Crispinorum genere agitur’, PL, cl, cols. 735– 744.

  79 .

‘Quo B. Maria subvenit Guillelmo Crispino Seniori’, PL, cl, col. 736C.

  80 .

GND, ii, 22–3, 26–7, 100–1, 152–3.

  81 .

GND, ii, 100; Bauduin, La Première Normandie, pp. 237–42; Power, Norman Frontier, pp. 522–4.

  82 .

Wace, Roman de Rou, III, lines 3313, 3331. Their brother-in-law William Malet was involved: KeatsRohan, ‘Domesday Book and the Malets’. See p. 15 for a discussion of the probably erroneous statement in the ‘Quo B. Maria’ that Esilia daughter of Gilbert I Crispin was the mother of William Malet.

  83 .

Power,

Norman

witnessed William

the

Frontier,

pp.

Conqueror’s

Crispin,

which

495,

charter

perhaps

522–4. for

Bec

Miles after

strengthens

likelihood that he belonged to the Neaufles lineage.

the

  84 .

ASC E, 1079.

  85 .

Musset, ‘Les origines d’une classe dirigeante: les Tosny, grands barons normands du Xe au XIII siècle’. Certain details have been revised, e.g. by J. P. Huffman, ‘Ralph III and the House of Tosny’, unpublished MA thesis, https://scholarworks.wmich.edu/masters_theses/3843.

  86 .

GND, ii, 94.

  87 .

Acta Archiepiscoporum Rotomagensium, Migne, PL, cxlvii, cols. 277B–277C. There is a new edition by Richard

Allen

in

the

online

journal

Tabularia,

https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.2531; cf. GND, ii, 94; P. Bauduin, ‘Autour de la dos d’Adelize de Tosny: mariage et contrôle du territoire en Normandie (XIe– XIIe siècles)’, D. Barthélemy and O. Bruand (eds.), Les

pouvoirs locaux dans la France du centre et de l’Ouest (VIIIe–XIe siècles) (Rennes, 2005), pp. 157–73.   88 .

Radulfus Glaber, Opera, eds. and trans. J. France, N. Bulst and P. Reynolds (Oxford, 1989), pp. 96–100; Adhémar de Chabannes, in Van Houts (ed. and trans.)

Normans in Europe, pp. 231–2; Chronica Monasterii Casinensis (ed. Hoffman), 237, 239.

  89 .

Recueil des Actes des Ducs de Normandie (ed. Fauroux), no. 157, pp. 342–3. Robert de Todeni and Berengar Spina may have been brothers of Roger or of Ralph, Domesday lord of Flamstead.

  90 .

Adhémar of Chabannes, in Van Houts (ed. and trans),

Normans

in

Europe,

pp.

269–70;

Keats-Rohan,

‘Domesday Book and the Malets’, p. 44 n. 178. For the foundation of Conches, see OV, ii, 10.   91 .

OV, ii, 40.

  92 .

Recueil des Actes des Ducs de Normandie (ed. Fauroux), no. 102, pp. 258–9.

  93 .

Musset, ‘Aux Origines’, p. 56.

  94 .

GND, ii, 146.

  95 .

OV, ii, 174.

  96 .

Wace, Roman de Rou, III, lines 7534–44; C. P. Lewis, ‘Tosny, Ralph de [Ralph de Conches]’, ODNB.

  97 .

LDB, fol. 235–236v; 90; GDB, I, fol. 137r–138v.

  98 .

GDB, I, fol. 183r.

  99 .

AA, pp. 66–71.

100 .

In 1072 he made a gift to the abbey of Evesham,

Chronicon Abbatiae de Evesham, ed. W. D. Macray, Rolls Series (London, 1863), p. 75. 101 .

P. Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship: Yorkshire

1066–1154 (Cambridge, 1994), p. 69; R. Fleming, Kings and Lords in Conquest England (Cambridge, 1991), p. 173. 102 .

Keats-Rohan, Domesday People, pp. 403–4; C. Pithois,

De Normandie au trône d’Ecosse: la saga des Bruce (Condé-sur-Noireau, 1998), pp. 12–14. 103 .

L.-R. Ménager, ‘Pesanteur et etiologie de la colonisation normande de ltalie’, Roberto il Guiscardo et il suo

tempore, pp. 189–214 at p. 202. This paper was followed by ‘Inventaire des familles normandes et franques emigrées en Italie méridionale et en Sicile (XI–XII siècles)’, pp. 261–390. 104 .

Ménager, ‘Pesanteur et etiologie de la colonisation normande de ltalie’, Roberto il Guiscardo et il suo

tempore, IV, 202. 105 .

For a discussion of Domesday evidence, see KeatsRohan, Domesday People, pp. 15–24, 30–43, 44–58.

106 .

Keats-Rohan, Domesday People, p. 61.

107 .

Keats-Rohan, Domesday People, pp. 63–4.

108 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 7–8; E. Jamison, ‘Some Notes on the Anonymi Gesta Francorum, with special reference to the Norman Contingent from South Italy and Sicily in the First Crusade’, Studies in French Language and

Literature presented to Mildred K. Pope (Manchester, 1939), pp. 183–208, reprinted in E. Jamison, Studies in

the History of Sicily and South Italy, eds. D. C. Clementi and T. Kölzer (Aalen, 1992), pp. 275–300; E. Johnson and A. Jotischky, ‘South Italian Normans and the Crusader States in the Twelfth Century’, K. Stringer and A. Jotischky (eds.), Normans and the Norman Edge, pp. 148–61; L. Russo, I Normanni de Mezzogiorno e il

Movimento Crociato nel XII seculo (Bari, 2014). 109 .

A. V. Murray, ‘How Norman was the Principality of Antioch? Prolegomena to a Study of the Origins of the Nobility of a Crusader State’, K. S. B. Keats-Rohan (ed.), Family Trees and the Roots of Politics. The

Prosopography of Britain and France from the Tenth to the Twelfth Century (Woodbridge, 1997), pp. 349–59. 110 .

Malaterra, p. 160; for the Sourdevals, see most recently A. D. Buck, ‘Dynasty and Diaspora in the Latin East: The Case of the Sourdevals’, Journal of Medieval

History, xliv (2018), 151–69. 111 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 7.

112 .

Liber Privilegiorum ecclesiae ianuensis, ed. D. Puncuh (Genoa, 1962), pp. 40–1; Walter the Chancellor, The

Antiochene Wars, trans. T. S. Asbridge and S. B. Edgington (Aldershot, 1999), p. 104; Asbridge, Creation

of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 165–6. 113 .

Walter the Chancellor, p. 99; Ménager, ‘Inventaire des familles normandes’, pp. 353–4; for Roger’s death see Robert the Monk, p. 151; OV, v, 54, 90, 102.

114 .

Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, pp. 91–2. Richard’s lands had passed by the reign of Henry I to Ralph Paynel and Robert de Brus.

115 .

R.

Bartlett,

Colonization

The and

Making

of

Cultural

Europe:

Conquest,

Change

950–1350

(Harmondsworth, 1993), pp. 29–30.

116 .

WP, p. 102. Chapter 4  Normans in the South

    1 .

P. Bouet, G. Otranto and A. Vauchez (eds.), Culte et

pèlerinages à Saint-Michel en Occident: les trois monts dédiés à l’archange, Collection de l’école française de Rome, 416 (Rome, 2003).     2 .

Ralph Glaber, Vita Willelmi Abbatis, ed. N. Bulst, trans. J. France and P. Reynolds in Opera. Historiarum Libri

Quinque=The Five Books of the Histories, ed. and trans. J. France (Oxford, 1989), pp. 154–299.     3 .

H. E. J. Cowdrey, Lanfranc, Scholar, Monk, Archbishop (Oxford, 2003).

    4 .

For the context see N. Webber, The Evolution of

Norman Identity 911–1154 (Woodbridge, 2005), pp. 55– 103; K. B. Wolf, Making History: The Normans and

their Historians in Eleventh-Century Italy (Philadelphia, 1995); Albu, The Normans in their Histories, chapter 3; T. S. Brown, ‘The Political Use of the Past in Norman Sicily’, P. Magdalino (ed.), The Perception of the Past in

Twelfth-Century Europe (London, 2003), pp. 191–20.

    5 .

Chronicon

Monasterii

Casinensis

(ed.

Hoffman);

Annales Barenses, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, v, ed. G. H. Pertz (Hannover, 1884), 51–65; Chronicon Casauriense, pp. 775–916; for an online translation

by

G.

A.

Loud

see

https://ims.leeds.ac.uk/wpcontent/uploads/sites/29/2019/02/CasauriaChronicle.pdf; and see also G. A. Loud, ‘Monastic Chronicles in Twelfth-Century Abruzzi’, Anglo-Norman

Studies, xxvii (2004), 101–31; Chronicon Vulturnense del Monaco Giovanni a cura di Vincenzo Federici; Chronicon

Salernitanum,

ed.

U.

Westerbergh

(Stockholm, 1956); Arnulf of Milan, Liber Gestorum

Recentium,

ed.

Historica,

C.

Zey,

Scriptores,

lxvii

Monumenta (1994),

for

Germaniae an

online

translation, https://acad.carleton.edu/curricular/MARS/Arnulf.pdf.     6 .

The Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century. Lives of Pope Leo IX and Gregory VII, ed. and trans. I. R. Robinson

(Manchester,

2013);

Regesta

Pontificum

Romanorum, ed. P. Jaffé, 2 vols, 2nd edn by W. Wattenbach with S. Loewenfeld, F. Kaltenbrunner and P. Ewald (Leipzig, 1895–8); Gregorii VII Registrum, ed. E. Caspar, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Epistolae, ii (1920–3); The Register of Pope Gregory VII 1073–

1085, trans. H. E. J. Cowdrey (Oxford, 2002); The Epistolae Vagantes of Pope Gregory VII, ed. H. E. J. Cowdrey (Oxford, 1972); Recueil des Actes des Ducs

Normands d’Italie (1046–1127), I, Les premiers ducs (1046–1087), ed. L.-R. Ménager (Bari, 1081); G. A. Loud, ‘A Calendar of the Diplomas of the Norman Princes of Capua’, Papers of the British School at

Rome, xlix (1981), 99–143. Many charters remain unpublished in the dispersed archives of southern Italy, though there are projects afoot for publication. For Cava see G. A. Loud, ‘The Medieval Archives of S. Trinità Cava’, D. Bates, E. D’Angelo and E. Van Houts (eds.),

People,

Texts

and

Artefacts:

Cultural

Transmission in the Medieval Norman Worlds (London, 2018), pp. 127–52. See also http://monasterium.net, http://www.sapuglia.net.     7 .

Michael Psellus, Fourteen Byzantine Rulers (trans. Sewter);

Michael

Attaleiates,

The History, (trans.

Kaldellis and Krallis); John Skylitzes, A Synopsis of

Byzantine History, 811–1057 (trans. Wortley); Anna Comnena, The Alexiad (trans. Sewter).     8 .

Eleventh-Century Germany: the Swabian Chronicles, ed. and trans. I. R. Robinson (Manchester, 2013).

    9 .

Rodulfus Glaber, Opera (ed. and trans. France, Bulst and Reynolds); Adhémar of Chabannes, Chronique, ed. J. Chavanon (Paris, 1897), pp. 177–8 (ed. and trans. Van Houts), Normans in Europe, pp. 231–2.

  10 .

Most of Orderic’s passages on the Normans in the south are in volume ii, 56–74, 94–104 and volume iv, 10–38; see Rozier, Roach, Gasper and Van Houts (eds.),

Orderic Vitalis. Life, Works and Interpretations, pp. 78– 100.   11 .

The database of the Cairo Geniza letters may be accessed at https://cudl.lib.ac.uk; S. D. Goitein, A

Medieval Society: the Jewish Communities of the World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Geniza, 6 vols (Berkeley, CA, 1967–93); The Itinerary of Benjamin

of Tudela, trans. M. Adler (Oxford, 1907).   12 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, chapter 1; Loud, ‘Southern Italy in the Tenth Century’, New Cambridge

Medieval History, III, 624–45; B. M. Kreutz, Before the Normans: Southern Italy in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries (Philadelphia, 1991); C. Wickham, Early Medieval Italy (London, 1981), chapter 6.

  13 .

G. A. Loud, ‘Southern Italy and the Eastern and Western Empires, c. 900–1050’, Journal of Medieval

History, xxxviii (2012), 1–19.   14 .

C. Holmes, Basil II and the Governance of Empire (Oxford, 2005).

  15 .

J.-M. Martin, A. Peters-Custot and V. Prigent, L’Héritage

byzantin en Italie: VIIe-XIIe siècle (Rome, 2011); J.-M. Martin, Byzance et l’Italie méridionale (Paris, 2014); Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 30–2.   16 .

P. Skinner, Medieval Amalfi and its Diaspora, 800–1250 (Oxford, 2013).

  17 .

L. Feller, Les Abruzzes médiévales: territoire, économie

et société en Italie centrale du IXe au XII siècle (Rome, 1998); J.-M. Martin, La Pouille du VIe au XIIe siècle (Rome, 1993).   18 .

G. A. Loud, ‘Byzantine Italy and the Normans’, J. D. Howard-Johnston (ed.), Byzantium and the West c.850–

c.1200 (Amsterdam, 1988), pp. 215–33.   19 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 60–80; E. Joranson, ‘The Inception of the Career of the Normans in Italy –

Legend and History’, Speculum, xxiii (1948), 353–96.   20 .

Amatus, p. 49.

  21 .

J. V. Tolan, Saracens: Islam in the Medieval Imagination (New York, 1972).

  22 .

Amatus, p. 50.

  23 .

Leo Marsicanus, Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, pp. 236–9: they were led by Gilbert (Botericus in this version),

Rodulf

of

Tosny,

Osmund,

Rufinus

and

Stigand; WAp., pp. 3–4.   24 .

Amatus, pp. 50–2.

  25 .

WAp., p. 4.

  26 .

Amatus, pp. 50–2.

  27 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 66.

  28 .

Radulfus Glaber, Opera, pp. 96–101; cf. Adhémar of Chabannes, in Van Houts (ed. and trans.), Normans in

Europe, pp. 231–2.   29 .

Amatus, pp. 56–7.

  30 .

Amatus, p. 53.

  31 .

Amatus, p. 60.

  32 .

Amatus, p. 60.

  33 .

Amatus, p. 68. Maniakes’

army

also

included

a

contingent of Varangians headed by Harold Hardrada.   34 .

Malaterra, p. 56.

  35 .

Amatus, pp. 68–9; Malaterra, pp. 55–7.

  36 .

Amatus, pp. 69–72; Malaterra, pp. 57–8.

  37 .

Amatus, pp. 73–5.

  38 .

Amatus, p. 75.

  39 .

Amatus, pp. 76–7.

  40 .

Amatus, p. 76 and n. 47 for the translator’s confusion about whether it was Guaimar or William who was prince.

  41 .

OV, ii, 58 calls Richard son of Anquetil of Quarrel. It has been thought that Anquetil or Asclettin (Old Norse Asketil) was the brother of Gilbert Buatère of the same name, though there does not seem to be any proof of this. Various possible Norman place-names have been identified

with

Quarrel,

Ménager,

Inventaire

des

familles normandes, pp. 305–7.   42 .

Amatus, p. 79.

  43 .

Amatus, p. 87.

  44 .

Amatus, p. 87.

  45 .

Malaterra, p. 60.

  46 .

Amatus, pp. 88–9.

  47 .

Amatus, pp. 89–90. Loud explores Gerard’s motivation and suggests he may have been related to Guiscard, possibly through the latter’s mother, which would explain in turn why Guiscard felt able subsequently to repudiate Alberada on the grounds of consanguinity,

Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 113–14.   48 .

Amatus, pp. 91–2.

  49 .

Amatus, p. 92.

  50 .

Amatus, pp. 92–4.

  51 .

PL, cxliii, cols. 0797B–0800B.

  52 .

Bonizo of Sutri, Liber ad Amicum, Libelli de Lite,

Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 3 vols (Hannover, 1891–7), i, 589, cited Amatus, p. 99 n. 55.   53 .

Amatus, pp. 99–100.

  54 .

Amatus, pp. 99–100.

  55 .

Amatus, p. 100.

  56 .

WAp., p. 19.

  57 .

Amatus, p. 101. It is at this point that the author places the arrival of four more Hautevilles, Mauger, Geoffrey, William and Roger. Geoffrey was a son of the first marriage, the other three of the second.

  58 .

Malaterra, p. 62.

  59 .

Amatus, pp. 100–1; WAp., pp. 18–20; Loud, Age of

Robert Guiscard, pp. 119–21.   60 .

WAp., p. 21.

  61 .

C. Morris, Papal Monarchy: the Western Church from

1050 to 1250 (Oxford, 1989), pp. 136–143.   62 .

Malaterra, pp. 62–5.

  63 .

Malaterra, p. 68.

  64 .

Amatus, pp. 119–22.

  65 .

Amatus, pp. 117–18; Malaterra, p. 72.

  66 .

W.Ap, p. 25; G. A. Loud, The Latin Church in Norman

Sicily (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 139–45.   67 .

Amatus, pp. 143–6; Malaterra, pp. 117–21; WAp., pp. 26–31.

Joscelin’s

daughter

married

Amicus

II

of

Molfetta, a son of Count Walter, son of Amicus.   68 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 133–4.

  69 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 137, 219–20, 234–46.

  70 .

L. Feller, ‘The Northern Frontier of Norman Italy, 1060– 1140’, G. A. Loud and A. Metcalfe (eds.), The Society of

Norman Italy (Leiden, Boston, 2002), pp. 47–74.   71 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 250–1; E. Zack Tabuteau, ‘The Family of Moulins-la-Marche in the Eleventh (1992),

Century’, 29–65;

Medieval

Ménager,

Prosopography,

‘Inventaire

des

xiii

familles

normandes’, pp. 332–6.   72 .

WAp., p. 19.

  73 .

John Berard, The Chronicle of St. Clement, Casauria, trans.

Loud,

https://ims.leeds.ac.uk/wp-

content/uploads/sites/29/2019/02/CasauriaChronicle.pdf, p. 25.   74 .

Amatus, pp. 180–2.

  75 .

I. S. Robinson, Henry IV of Germany, 1056–1106 (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 107–235.

  76 .

F. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination normande, 2 vols (Paris, 1907), i, 308; ii, 616.

  77 .

Le Liber Censuum de l’Eglise Romaine, eds. P. Fabre and L. Duchesne, 3 vols (Paris, 1889–1952), i, 421–2; WAp., p. 25.

  78 .

C. D. Stanton, ‘Anonymous Vaticanus: Another Source for the Normans in the South?’

  79 .

Malaterra p. 86; G. Theotokis, ‘The Norman Invasion of Sicily, 1061–1072: Numbers and Military Tactics’, War

in History, xvii (2010), 381–402.   80 .

Malaterra, p. 92.

  81 .

Malaterra, pp. 95–6.

  82 .

Malaterra, p. 102.

  83 .

Malaterra, pp. 107–11.

  84 .

Malaterra, p. 114.

  85 .

Malaterra, p. 121.

  86 .

Malaterra, p. 125.

  87 .

Malaterra, pp. 133–4.

  88 .

Malaterra, p. 160.

  89 .

Malaterra, p. 164.

  90 .

Malaterra, p. 179.

  91 .

Malaterra, p. 190.

  92 .

Malaterra, p. 87.

  93 .

Malaterra, p. 204.

  94 .

P. E. Chevedden, ‘“A Crusade from the First”: the Norman Conquest of Islamic Sicily, 1060–91’, Al Masāq, xxii (2010), 191–225. For Alexander’s indulgence, Malaterra, p. 111; for Gregory, Register of Pope

Gregory VII (trans. Cowdrey), pp. 193–4.   95 .

Malaterra, p. 213.

  96 .

Malaterra, pp. 138, 147.

  97 .

H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘The Mahdia Campaign of 1087’,

English Historical Review, xcii (1977), 1–29.   98 .

Malaterra, pp. 191–3.

  99 .

D. Abulafia, ‘The Norman Kingdom of Africa and the Norman Expeditions to Majorca and the Muslim Mediterranean’, Anglo-Norman Studies, vii (1984), 26– 49; M. King, ‘The Norman Kingdom of Africa and the Medieval

Mediterranean’,

(University

of

unpublished

PhD

Minnesota,

thesis 2018),

http://hdl.handle.net/11299/196516. 100 .

L. Russo, ‘L’Expansion Normande contre Byzance (XIe– XIIe siècles). Réflexions sur une question toujours ouverte’, (Bates and Bauduin, eds.), 911–2011: Penser

les mondes normands médiévaux, pp. 147–76. 101 .

Michael Psellus, Fourteen Byzantine Rulers (trans. Sewter), p. 372.

102 .

Malaterra, pp. 143–5.

103 .

H. E. J. Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII, 1073–1085 (Oxford, 1998). pp. 484–5.

104 .

Registrum. VIII.6, Register of Pope Gregory VII (trans. Cowdrey), pp. 371–2; AC, p. 144.

105 .

AC, p. 136.

106 .

Malaterra, pp. 144–5; AC, p. 57.

107 .

AC, p. 155.

108 .

Malaterra, pp. 153–4.

109 .

AC, p.136.

110 .

Malaterra, pp. 155–9.

111 .

Registrum, IX.17, Register of Pope Gregory VII (trans. Cowdrey), p. 417.

112 .

AC, pp. 155–64.

113 .

AC, pp. 167–73.

114 .

Ibid.

115 .

WAp. pp. 61–2; AC, p. 188.

116 .

AC, pp. 188–9.

117 .

AC, pp. 191–2.

118 .

WAp., p. 49.

119 .

Malaterra, p. 172.

120 .

Malaterra, pp. 198–9.

121 .

John of Fécamp, Letters, PL, cxliii, cols. 0797B–0800B.

122 .

WAp., p. 6.

123 .

Amatus, pp. 84–5.

124 .

Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII 1073–1085, pp. 44, 51–2.

125 .

C. D. Stanton, Norman Naval Operations in the

Mediterranean (Woodbridge, 2011), pp. 9–66. 126 .

Stanton, Norman Naval Operations, pp. 246–55. Chapter 5  Normans in Britain

    1 .

For accounts composed beyond Normandy, Van Houts, ‘The Norman Conquest in European Perspective’.

    2 .

GND, WP, BT.

    3 .

Carmen de Hastingae Proelio, ed. and trans. F. Barlow, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1999).

    4 .

The Life of King Edward who Rests at Westminster, ed. and trans. F. Barlow, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1992).

    5 .

The Anglo–Saxon Chronicle, trans. and ed. M. Swanton (London, 1996) (hereafter ASC).

    6 .

JW ii, ed. Darlington and iii, ed. McGurk (Oxford, 1995, 1998); Eadmer, Historia Novorum, ed. M. Rule, Rolls Series (London, 1884); WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, eds. R. A. B. Mynors, R. M.

Thomson

and

M.

Winterbottom; ii, introduction and commentary by R. M. Thomson (Oxford, 1998, 1999); Symeon of Durham,

Opera omnia, ed. T. Arnold, Rolls Series (London, 1882– 5); Symeon of Durham, Libellus de Exordio atque

Procursu istius hoc est Dunhelmensis Ecclesie, ed. and trans. D. Rollason (Oxford, 2000); HH; OV, ii.     7 .

Facsimile editions of Domesday Book volume one (GDB) and volume two (LDB) were edited by A. Williams (London, 1986–2000); Domesday Book: A Complete

Translation, by A. Williams with a foreword by G. H. Martin was then published separately (Harmondsworth, 2002); the edition for the Record Commission was edited by A. Farley, 4 vols (London, 1783–1816). This edition

together

with

Boldon

Book

with

facing

translation into English was edited by John Morris in 35

vols plus three index vols (Chichester, 1986–92). For the written acts of William I before 1066 see Recueil

des Actes des Ducs de Normandie de 911 à 1066 (ed. Fauroux); Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum. The

Acta of William I (1066–1087), ed. D. Bates (Oxford, 1998); Letters of Lanfranc, eds. and trans. H. Clover and M. T. Gibson (Oxford, 1979).     8 .

E.g. M. Faulkner, ‘Orderic Vitalis and English’, in Rozier, Gasper, Roach and Van Houts (eds.), Orderic

Vitalis, pp. 100–26; for archaeology see D. M. Hadley and C. Dyer (eds.), The Archaeology of the 11th

Century. Continuities and Transformations (Oxford, 2017);

J.

Blair,

Building

Anglo-Saxon

England

(Princeton and Oxford, 2018), chapter 11; E. Fernie,

The Architecture of Norman England (Oxford, 2000); R. Liddiard, Castles in Context: Power, Symbolism and

Landscape 1066 to 1500 (Macclesfield, 2005); O. H. Creighton, Castles and Landscapes (London and New York, 2002); O. H. Creighton, Designs upon the Land:

Elite Landscapes of the Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 2009), Castles and Landscapes.     9 .

GND, ii, 158; WP, pp. 19–21. The Bayeux Tapestry begins with King Edward and Harold, then Harold’s crossing to France, his appearance at Duke William’s court and the swearing of an oath. The reasons behind

Harold’s actions and, most critically, the terms of his oath, are not made clear but presumably would have been self-evident. For discussion of the basis of William’s claim see, for example, Bates, William the

Conqueror, pp. 191–200; T. Licence, ‘Edward the Confessor and the Succession Question: A Fresh Look at the Sources’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxix (2016), 113–27.   10 .

Bates, William the Conqueror, pp. 118, 517.

  11 .

WP, pp. 58–60.

  12 .

Flodoard, 6F, p. 12.

  13 .

For what follows see Bates, William the Conqueror, pp. 177–91; for Maine see Barton, Lordship in the County

of Maine, c.890–1160.   14 .

WP, pp. 60–2.

  15 .

OV, ii, 312.

  16 .

OV, ii, 118n.

  17 .

WP, pp. 60–8. Bates points out that there is no indication that the lord of the castle, Geoffrey de

Mayenne, lost his lands, William the Conqueror, pp. 185–6.   18 .

WP, pp. 70–7. It should also be noted that William claimed he was justified in invading the French Vexin in 1087 on the grounds that Philip I had promised the county to Duke Robert I, OV, iv, 74–8.

  19 .

WP, p. 72; BT, plates 20, 21.

  20 .

BT, plates 22–4.

  21 .

Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, trans. A. Findlay and A. Faulkes, 3 vols., Viking Society for Northern Research (2011–15), iii, Haraldssona Saga, chapter 78, pp. 103–4; K. DeVries, Norwegian Invasion of England

in 1066 (Woodbridge, 1999), pp. 233–4.   22 .

C. Krag, ‘Harold Hardrada [Haraldr inn Harðráði, Haraldr Sigurðson] (1015–1066)’, ODNB.

  23 .

Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla (trans. Findlay and Faulkes), iii, 105. Tostig and Harold had probably negotiated an alliance before Edward’s death.

  24 .

For the 1065 rebellion, see JW, ii, 596–8.

  25 .

Chronique des comtes d’Anjou, eds. L. Halphen and R. Poupardin (Paris, 1913), pp. 88–90.

  26 .

See the chronicle references collected in Recueil des

Actes de Philippe Ier, roi de France, ed. M. Prou (Paris, 1908), p. xxix.   27 .

In 1051 Godwin and his sons Swein, Tostig and Gyrth fled to Bruges, and returned the following year with a fleet, ASC C, D, E, F 1051, 1052. Tostig married Judith, granddaughter of Richard II of Normandy and halfsister of Count Baldwin V, E. Van Houts, ‘Judith of Flanders, duchess of Bavaria (1030 x 5–1095)’, ODNB.

  28 .

On

Flemish

migration

to

England

see

Oksanen,

Flanders and the Anglo-Norman World, pp. 178–218.   29 .

E. Van Houts, ‘The Ship List of William the Conqueror’,

Anglo-Norman Studies, x (1988), 159–83 reprinted in E. Van Houts, History and Family Traditions (Aldershot, 1999), chapter 6.   30 .

C. P. Lewis, ‘William fitz Osbern, earl (d. 1071), magnate’, ODNB; J. F. A. Mason, ‘Montgomery, Roger de, first Earl of Shrewsbury (d. 1094), soldier and

magnate’, ODNB; for the Beaumont family see GND, ii, 92–8.   31 .

C. Warren Hollister, ‘The Greater Domesday Tenants in Chief’, J. C. Holt (ed.), Domesday Studies (Woodbridge, 1987), pp. 219–48.

  32 .

ASC A, 1066.

  33 .

BT, plates 50, 51; Bates, William the Conqueror, pp. 235–6.

  34 .

WP, p. 144.

  35 .

M. K. Lawson, The Battle of Hastings 1066 (3rd pdf edition,

2016),

http://archive.org/details/LawsonBattleofHastings3rd edn   36 .

ASC D; OV, ii, 180, 194, 214; WP, p. 162.

  37 .

Carmen de Hastingae Proelio, pp. 40–2.

  38 .

J. A. Green, The Aristocracy of Norman England (Cambridge, 1997), pp. 53–92.

  39 .

ASC D, 1067.

  40 .

OV, ii, 218; ASC D, 1068.

  41 .

ASC E, 1069; OV, ii, 224–8.

  42 .

ASC E, 1069 ‘between the Ouse and the Trent’; OV, ii, 230.

  43 .

ASC E, 1070.

  44 .

ASC D, E, 1069.

  45 .

ASC D, E, 1069; OV, ii, 230–3; JW, iii, 10.

  46 .

ASC D, 1071; OV, ii, 214, 256–8.

  47 .

J. Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard at War’, C. HarperBill, C. Holdsworth and J. Nelson (eds.), Studies in

Medieval

History

presented

(Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 141–58.   48 .

ASC D, E, 1072.

  49 .

ASC, D, E, 1075.

  50 .

ASC E, 1085.

to

R.

Allen

Brown

  51 .

Green, Aristocracy of Norman England, pp. 160–71.

  52 .

A. Williams, ‘1066 and the English’, D. Bates (ed.), 1066

in Perspective (Leeds, 2018), pp. 123–32, at pp. 125–9.   53 .

D. Roffe, ‘From Thegnage to Barony: Sake and Soke, Title, and Tenants-in-Chief’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xii (1990), 157–76.

  54 .

Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship, pp. 19–78.

  55 .

K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, ‘A Question of Identity: Domesday Prosopography and the Formation of the Honour of Richmond’, D. Roffe and K. S. B. Keats-Rohan (eds.),

Domesday Now (Woodbridge, 2016), pp. 169–96, at pp. 184–90; L. Marten, ‘The Impact of Rebellion on Little Domesday’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxvii (2004), 132– 50.   56 .

G. Garnett, Conquered England: Kingship, Succession,

and Tenure 1066–1166 (Oxford, 2007), part 2, ‘The King as Anomaly’.   57 .

J. C. Holt, ‘The Introduction of Knight Service into England’, Anglo-Norman Studies, vi (1983), 89–106.

  58 .

Blair, Building Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 354–80.

  59 .

Blair, Building Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 387–97.

  60 .

T. E. McNeill and M. Pringle, ‘A Map of Mottes in the British Isles’, Medieval Archaeology, xli (1997), 220–2.

  61 .

JW, iii, 10–14.

  62 .

ASC A, 1070; M. T. Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec (Oxford, 1978), pp. 98–115.

  63 .

ASC A, 1070; Hugh the Chanter, History of the Church

of York, 1066–1127, ed. and trans. C. Johnson, new rev. edn. M. Brett, C. N. L. Brooke and M. Winterbottom (Oxford, 1990), p. 2.   64 .

Walcher of Durham was Lotharingian but his successor William of Saint-Calais was Norman. Remigius was appointed to Dorchester, Thomas to York, Walkelin to Winchester, Stigand to Selsey, Herfast to Elmham, Osbern to Exeter, Peter then Robert de Limesy to Lichfield, Hugh d’Orival, and then Maurice to London, Osmund to Sherborne, and William de Belfou to Thetford. E. U. Crosby, The King’s Bishops: The Politics

of Patronage in England and Normandy, 1066–1216 (New York, Basingstoke, 2013).   65 .

D. Knowles, Monastic Order in England. From the

Times of St Dunstan to the Fourth Lateran Council 940– 1216, 2nd edn (Cambridge, 1963), pp. 111–12.   66 .

E. Fernie, ‘1066 and Ecclesiastical Architecture’, Bates (ed.), 1066 in Perspective, pp. 187–203 at pp. 194–7.

  67 .

D. J. A. Matthew, The Norman Monasteries and their

English Possessions (London, 1962).   68 .

For Battle see E. Searle, Lordship and Community:

Battle Abbey and Its Banlieu, 1066–1538 (Toronto, 1974); for St Werburgh’s, see Victoria County History,

Chester, iii, 132–46; for Shrewsbury Abbey see OV, iii, 142–50; Victoria County History, Shropshire, ii, 30–7; for the foundation charter of Lewes priory, Early

Yorkshire Charters, VIII, The Honour of Warenne, ed. C. T. Clay, Yorkshire Archaeological Society Record Series, Extra Series, VI (Wakefield, 1949), pp. 54–5.   69 .

S. D. Keynes, ‘Regenbald the Chancellor (sic)’, Anglo-

Norman Studies, x (1988), 185–222; Bates, William the Conqueror, p. 269 n. 42; on William’s chancery, Bates, Regesta, pp. 96–109.

  70 .

R. Sharpe, ‘The Use of Writs in the Eleventh Century’,

Anglo-Saxon England, xxxii (2003), 247–91; Bates, Regesta, p. 58.   71 .

J. A. Green, English Sheriffs to 1154 (London, 1990), pp. 9–23.

  72 .

R. Sharpe, ‘The Earliest Norman Sheriffs’, History, ci (2016), 485–94; J. A. Green, ‘The Sheriffs of William the Conqueror’, Anglo-Norman Studies, v (1982), 129–45.

  73 .

S. Harvey, Domesday. Book of Judgement (Oxford, 2013), pp. 74–5; W. A. Morris, The Medieval English

Sheriff to 1300 (Manchester, 1927), pp. 1–16.   74 .

M. Allen, Mints and Money in Medieval England (Cambridge, 2012), p. 15.

  75 .

Allen, Mints and Money, p. 138, cf. P. Nightingale, ‘The Evolution of Weight Standards and the Creation of New Monetary and Commercial Links in Northern Europe from the Tenth to the Twelfth Century’, Economic

History Review, 2nd series, xxxviii (1985), 192–209, at 200–1.

  76 .

Textus Roffensis, Rochester Cathedral Library, MS. A. 35,

online

images

at

https://luna.manchester.ac.uk/luna/servlet/detail/Man4 MedievalVC~4~4~990378~142729; B. O’Brien and B. Bombi (eds.), Textus Roffensis: Law, Language and

Libraries in Early Medieval England (Turnhout, 2015); B. O’Brien, Reversing Babel. Translation during an Age

of Conquests, c.800–c.1200 (Lanham MD, 2011), pp. 3– 4, 125–6; ‘The Instituta Cnuti and the Translation of English Law’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxv (2003), 177– 97.   77 .

G. Garnett, ‘Franci et Angli: the Legal Distinction between Peoples after the Conquest’, Anglo-Norman

Studies, viii (1985), 116–28.   78 .

T. B. Lambert, Law and Order in Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford, 2017), pp. 349–61.

  79 .

J. Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II,

870–1216 (Oxford, 2012), chapter 14, pp. 333–75.   80 .

Lambert, Law and Order in Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 357–63.

  81 .

W. Stubbs, Select Charters from the Beginning to 1307, 9th edn by H. W. C. Davis (Oxford, 1913), p. 119; for discussion see Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of

England, II, 386–9.   82 .

Bates, Regesta, no. 128.

  83 .

OV, iii, 34.

  84 .

J. A. Green, ‘Forest Laws in England and Normandy in the Twelfth Century’, Historical Research, lxxxviii (2013), 416–31.

  85 .

ASC E, 1086.

  86 .

ASC E 1072.

  87 .

ASC, D, 1074.

  88 .

ASC, D, E, 1079; JW, iii, 30–2; for 1093, ASC E, 1091, 1093; JW, iii, 64–6.

  89 .

Symeon of Durham, Libellus de Exordio, pp. 212–18.

  90 .

Symeon of Durham, Libellus de Exordio, pp. 218–20; Symeon of Durham, Historia Regum, Opera omnia, ed.

T. Arnold, Rolls Series (London, 1882–5), ii, 211.   91 .

Symeon of Durham, Libellus de Exordio, p. 232;

Historia Regum, ii, 215.   92 .

ASC, E, 1092.

  93 .

Symeon of Durham, Historia Regum, ii, 220–1.

  94 .

J. A. Green, ‘The Normans in the North’, Stringer and Jotischky (eds.), The Normans and the ‘Norman Edge’, pp. 53–75, at pp. 65–6.

  95 .

William of Newburgh, Chronicles of the Reigns of

Stephen, Henry II and Richard I, i, 106–7.   96 .

G. W. S. Barrow, ‘The Anglo-Scottish Border’, Northern

History, i (1966), 21–42; G. W. S. Barrow, ‘Frontier and Settlement: Which Influenced Which? England and Scotland, 1100–1300’, R. Bartlett and A. MacKay (eds.),

Medieval Frontier Societies (Oxford, 1989), pp. 3–21.   97 .

R. D. Oram, Domination and Lordship: Scotland 1070–

1230 (Edinburgh, 2006), pp. 328–61.   98 .

C. P. Lewis, ‘Welsh Territories and Welsh Identities in Late Anglo-Saxon England’, N. J. Higham (ed.), Britons

in Anglo-Saxon England (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 130– 43.   99 .

Ælfgar was appointed Earl of East Anglia in 1051, was exiled four years later and travelled to Ireland where he hired Norwegian mercenaries. On his return he allied

with

Gruffydd

and

together

they

ravaged

Herefordshire: S. Baxter, The Earls of Mercia. Lordship

and Power in Late Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford, 2007), pp. 43–8. 100 .

JW, ii, 566.

101 .

JW, ii, 576–8.

102 .

ASC D, 1056, 1058; JW, ii, 580, 584.

103 .

ASC D, E, 1063; JW, ii, 592.

104 .

Baxter, Earls of Mercia, pp. 299–300.

105 .

C. P. Lewis, ‘The Norman Settlement of Herefordshire under William I’, Anglo-Norman Studies, vii (1984), 195–213.

106 .

Lewis, ‘Norman Settlement’, pp. 198–200.

107 .

Lewis, ‘Norman Settlement’, p. 201; for attacks against the Welsh, OV, ii, 260.

108 .

C. P. Lewis, ‘The Formation of the Honor of Chester, 1066–1100’, The Earldom of Chester and its Charters.

A Tribute to Geoffrey Barraclough, ed. A. T. Thacker, Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society, lxxii (1991), 37–68. 109 .

H. Pryce, ‘Gruffudd ap Cynan (1054/5–1137)’, ODNB.

110 .

The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed. and trans. M. C. Chibnall iv, 139–41, copyright Oxford University Press, 1973, reproduced with permission of the Licensor through PLS Clear.

111 .

D. Matthew, Britain and the Continent 1000–1300 (London, 2005), p. 28.

112 .

S. Marritt, ‘Drogo the Sheriff: A Neglected Lost Romance Tradition and Anglo-Norman Relations in the Twelfth Century’, Historical Research, lxxx (2007), 157–84.

113 .

Magnus Barelegs, King of Norway was said to have taken Harold, a son of Harold Godwinson to England,

WM,

GRA,

i,

570;

Power,

‘Magnus

Barelegs’

Expeditions to the West’. For Eystein II King of Norway’s raid in the early 1150s, see Heimskringla (trans. Findlay and Faulkes), iii, Haraldssona Saga, chapter 20, pp. 201–3. Chapter 6  The First Crusade and the Principality of Antioch     1 .

P. Frankopan, The First Crusade: The Call from the East (London, 2012); T. Asbridge, The First Crusade: A New

History (Oxford, 2004); J. Rubinstein, Apocalypse Then: The First Crusade (San Francisco, 2015); France, Victory in the East: A Military History of the First Crusade; L. Ní Chlérigh, ‘Nova Peregrinatio: The First Crusade

as

a

Pilgrimage

in

Contemporary

Latin

Narratives’, M. Bull and D. Kempf (eds.), Writing the

Early Crusades: Text, Transmission and Memory, (Cambridge, 2014); Writing the Early Crusades, pp. 63– 74; S. Edgington, ‘The First Crusade: Reviewing the Evidence’, J. Phillips (ed.), The First Crusade: Origins

and Impact (Manchester, 1997), pp. 55–77.     2 .

Ní Chléirigh, ‘Gesta Normannorum? Normans in the Latin Chronicles of the First Crusade’, p. 210.

    3 .

C. Symes, ‘Popular Literacies and the First Historians of the First Crusade’, Past and Present, 325 (2017), 37–

67.     4 .

Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum, ed. R. Hill (Oxford, 1962) (hereafter Gesta Francorum), pp. xi–xvi.

For

vernacular

an

important

literature

discussion

played

of

into

the

the

way

author’s

presentation of Bohemond see S. T. Parsons, ‘The Valiant Man and the vilain in the Tradition of the Gesta

Francorum.

Overeating,

Taunts,

and

Bohemond’s

Heroic Status’, Hodgson, Lewis and Mesley (eds.),

Crusading Masculinities, pp. 36–52.     5 .

Historia

de

Hierosolymitano

Itinere

[de]

Peter

Tudebode, trans. J. H. and L. L. Hill (Philadelphia, 1974).     6 .

S. Niskanen, ‘The Origins of the Gesta Francorum and Two

Related

Texts:

Their

Textual

and

Literary

Character’, Sacris Eruditi, li (2012), 287–316; M. Bull, ‘The Relationship between the Gesta Francorum and Peter Tudebode’s Historia de Hierosolymitano Itinere: The Evidence of a hitherto unexamined Manuscript (St. Catherine’s College, Cambridge, 3)’, Crusades, xi (2016),

1–18;

E.

D’Angelo,

‘Comment

Roger

de

Barneville est-il mort? Sur les rapports entre les chroniques latines de la première croisade’, Tabularia, https://doi.org/10.4000/tabularia.2880;

J.

Rubinstein,

‘What is the Gesta Francorum and who was Peter Tudebode?’, Revue Mabillon, xvi (2005), 179–201; J. Flori, ‘De l’anonyme normand à Tudebode et aux Gesta

Francorum: L’impact de la propagande de Bohémond sur la critique textuelle des sources de la première croisade’, Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, cii (2007), 717–46.     7 .

Hystoria de uia et recuperatione Antiochae atque Ierusolymatum, ed. E. D’Angelo (Florence, 2009).

    8 .

Raymond of Aguilers, Historia Francorum qui ceperunt

Iherusalem, trans. J. H. Hill and L. L. Hill (Philadelphia, 1968).     9 .

Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the Expedition to

Jerusalem, 1095–1117, trans. F. R. Ryan with an introduction by H. S. Fink (Knoxville, TN, 1969) (hereafter Fulcher of Chartres).   10 .

The Historia Ierosolimitana of Baldric of Bourgueil, ed. S. Biddlecombe (Woodbridge, 2014) (hereafter BB); Guibert of Nogent, The Deeds of God through the

Franks: Gesta Dei per Francos, trans. R. Levine (Woodbridge, 1997) (hereafter Guibert); Robert the

Monk’s

History

of

the

First

Crusade:

Historia

Iherosolimitana, trans. C. Sweetenham (Aldershot, 2005) (hereafter Robert the Monk).   11 .

Robert the Monk, pp. 5–7.

  12 .

J. Naus, Constructing Kingship: the Capetian Monarchs

of France and the Early Crusades (Manchester, 2017). For Hugh of Vermandois, see M. Bull, ‘The Capetian Monarchy and the Early Crusade Movement: Hugh of Vermandois

and

Louis

VII’,

Nottingham Medieval

Studies, xl (1996), 25–46.   13 .

N. Paul, ‘A Warlord’s Wisdom: Literacy and Propaganda at the Time of the First Crusade’, Speculum, lxxxv (2010), 534–66, at 563. The idea that the Gesta

Francorum was specifically adapted for Bohemond’s visit to France in 1106 was put forward by A. C. Krey, ‘A Neglected Passage in the Gesta and its Bearing on the Literature of the First Crusade’, L. J. Paetow (ed.), The

Crusades and Other Historical Essays Presented to D. C. Munro by His Former Students (New York, 1928), pp. 57–78; L. Russo, ‘Il viaggio di Boemondo d’Altavilla in Francia 1106’, in Russo, I Normanni del Mezzogiorno

e il movimento crociato, pp. 129–30; BB, pp. lv–lxx; J. Rubinstein,

‘The

Deeds

of

Bohemond:

Reform,

Propaganda, and the History of the First Crusade’,

Viator, xlvii (2016), 113–36.

  14 .

The Gesta Tancredi of Ralph of Caen. A History of the Normans on the First Crusade, trans. B. S. Bachrach and D. S. Bachrach (Aldershot, 2005).

  15 .

Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana: History of

the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. and trans. S. B. Edgington (Oxford, 2007) (hereafter AA).   16 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 592–706; HH, pp. 422– 42; OV, v, 4–188, 206–10, 268–80, 322–80.

  17 .

Chronica Monasterii Casinensis (ed. Hoffman); L. Russo, ‘The Monte Cassino Tradition of the First Crusade: From the Chronica Monasterii Casinensis to the Hystoria de Via Recuperatione Antiochae Atque

Ierusolymarum’, Bull and Kempf (eds.), Writing the Early Crusade: Texts, Transmission and Memory, pp. 53–62.   18 .

AC.

  19 .

C. Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives (Edinburgh, 1999), chapter 2; The First Crusade: The

Chronicle of Fulcher of Chartres and Other Source Materials, trans. E. Peters, 2nd edn (Philadelphia, 1998), pp. 112–39. For letters from the Cairo Geniza

relating to the First Crusade see Peters, First Crusade, pp. 263–72.   20 .

Epistvlae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes quae supersunt aevo aequales ac genvinae, ed. H. Hagenmeyer (Innsbruck, 1901); Letters from the

East: Crusaders, Pilgrims and Settlers in the 12th–13th Centuries, trans. M. Barber and K. Bate (Farnham, 2015).   21 .

Symes, ‘First Historians of the First Crusade’; K. Allen Smith, The Bible and Crusade Narrative in the Twelfth

Century (Woodbridge, 2020).   22 .

J. S. C. Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of

Crusading (London, 1986); J. S. C. Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 1095–1131 (Cambridge, 1997); M. Bull, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First

Crusade:

The

Limousin

(Oxford,

1993);

and

Edgington

Gascony and

c.970–1130

Lambert

(eds.),

Gendering the Crusades.   23 .

N. L. Paul, To Follow in Their Footsteps: The Crusades

and Family Memory in the High Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY, 2012).

  24 .

T. S. Asbridge, The Creation of the Principality of

Antioch

1098–1130

(Woodbridge,

2000);

Buck,

Principality of Antioch and Its Frontiers in the Twelfth Century.   25 .

A. D. Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of

Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, c.1040–1130 (London, 2017), pp. 307–57.   26 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 1–5.

  27 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 21.

  28 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 45.

  29 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 101.

  30 .

OV, v, 196–8.

  31 .

OV, v, 40.

  32 .

OV, v, 362.

  33 .

OV, v, 26, 206. Pope Urban’s sermon has been much discussed. The accounts of Baudry of Bourgueil, Guibert of Nogent, Robert the Monk, and Fulcher of

Chartres are conveniently presented in L. and J. RileySmith (eds.), The Crusades: Idea and Reality (London, 1981). For a recent discussion, see Rubinstein, Armies

of Heaven, pp. 22–8.   34 .

Orderic claimed that Duke Robert, seeing that support for his rule over Normandy had ebbed away, decided to go on pilgrimage, v, 26. For Duke Robert I’s pilgrimage see GND, ii, 78–84.

  35 .

OV, v, 34, 210. Gilbert conducted Odo’s funeral rites in Palermo, but he evidently returned to Normandy, as according to Orderic he was present at the dedication of the church of Saint-Evroul in 1099, OV, v, 264. Serlo of Sées was also present at the Council of Clermont, OV, v, 18; D. Spear, ‘The Secular Clergy of Normandy and

the

Crusades’,

Hurlock

and

Oldfield

(eds.),

Crusading and Pilgrimage in the Norman World, pp. 81–102.   36 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 562; JW, iii, 84; OV, 208.

  37 .

William was probably quite young in 1095, and had not long succeeded to his lands.

  38 .

OV, v, 34; JW, iii, 82.

  39 .

C. W. David, Robert Curthose Duke of Normandy (Cambridge, MA, 1920), pp. 222, 228; JW, iii, 76; The

Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle, eds and trans. E. Van Houts and R. C. Love (Oxford, 2013) pp. 40–1.   40 .

OV, v, 30; for Rufus’s Vexin campaign of 1097–8, see F. Barlow, William Rufus (London, 1983), pp. 376–81.

  41 .

OV, iv, 338–40; v, 34.

  42 .

OV, v, 58.

  43 .

OV, v, 34.

  44 .

LDB, ii, fol. 89v; Keats-Rohan, Domesday People, pp. 263–4.

  45 .

Cartularium Abbathiae de Whiteby, ed. J. C. Atkinson, i, p. 2, as cited by David, Robert Curthose, Appendix D, p. 229.

  46 .

S.

Edgington,

‘Payn

Peverel:

An

Anglo-Norman

Crusader’, P. Edbury (ed.), Crusade and Settlement:

Papers Read at the First Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East presented to R. C. Smail, (Cardiff, 1985), pp. 90–3; Keats-Rohan,

Domesday

People,

pp.

355–6,

394;

Keats-Rohan,

Domesday Descendants, pp. 1066–9. William Peverel of Dover witnessed a charter of William Rufus in the

RRAN,

1090s,

i,

no.

362.

https://actswilliam2henry1.files.wordpress.com/2018/05 /w2-bermondsey-priory-2018-1.pdf.

Haimo

married

Sybil, daughter and heiress of Gerard de Tornai, who held

land

in

Shropshire,

RRAN,

iii,

no.

821.

Conceivably, then, the brothers were knights in the royal household of Rufus and Henry I.   47 .

Green, Aristocracy of Norman England, p. 133.

  48 .

Hurlock,

‘Norman

Influence

on

Crusading

from

England and Wales’, pp. 65–79.   49 .

OV, iv, 42.

  50 .

C. Warren Hollister, ‘The Taming of a Turbulent Earl: Henry

I

and

William

of

Warenne’,

Réflexions

Historiques, iii (1976), 83–91, reprinted in Monarchy, Magnates, and Institutions in the Anglo-Norman World (London, 1986), pp. 137–44.   51 .

WJ, GND, ii, 214.

  52 .

OV, v, 150; Orderic believed that Agnes as a widow became the mistress of Duke Robert, OV, vi, 38–40; for Anselm’s letters see Letters from the East (trans. Barber and Bate), nos. 3, 7, pp. 18–21; 26–30; for his death, Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 124–5.

  53 .

J. A. Green, Henry I King of England Duke of Normandy (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 25–36. At the time of Robert’s departure, Rufus recognized Henry’s authority not only over the Cotentin, but also over the Bessin, except for Bayeux and Caen, WJ, GND, ii, 210–12.

  54 .

Fulcher of Chartres, p. 75.

  55 .

BB, Appendix 2, pp. 125–7.

  56 .

OV, v, 34.

  57 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 7; Malaterra, pp. 204–5.

  58 .

Malaterra, p. 204.

  59 .

AC, p. 329.

  60 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 7–8; OV, v, 36–7; BB, p. 16.

  61 .

Jamison,

‘Some

Notes

on

the

Anonymi

Gesta

Francorum, with Special Reference to the Norman Contingent from South Italy and Sicily in the First Crusade’, pp. 195–208; OV, v, 36–7 n. 1.   62 .

Jamison, ‘Some Notes’, p. 204.

  63 .

Buck, ‘Dynasty and Diaspora in the Latin East: the Case of the Sourdevals’.

  64 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 6–8; Jamison, ‘Some Notes’, pp. 197, 205–6; OV, v, 37 n. 1.

  65 .

Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders? The Normans of Southern Italy and the Crusading Movement in the Twelfth Century’, p. 171.

  66 .

J. Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades (London and New York, 2014), pp. 59–78; R.-J. Lilie, Expectations

and Dissensions: The First Crusade and Byzantium 1096–1098 (Oxford, 1994).   67 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 75–6, 80–1; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 121; Guibert, p. 118; Robert the Monk, pp.186–7.

  68 .

AA, pp. 340–2.

  69 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 72; Guibert, p. 112.

  70 .

B.

E.

Whalen,

‘God’s

Will

or

Not?

Bohemond’s

Campaign against the Byzantine Empire (1105–1108)’, J. L. Naus, V. Ryan (eds.), The Crusades: Medieval

Worlds in Conflict, pp. 111–25.   71 .

OV, vi, 102–4.

  72 .

AC, pp. 308–26; cf. Gesta Francorum, pp. 5–7, 10.

  73 .

See especially AA, pp. 2–44.

  74 .

AC, pp. 311–12; Gesta Francorum, pp. 2, 4.

  75 .

AC, pp. 315, 319, 322, 325, 328, 330; Gesta Francorum, pp. 11–14.

  76 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 31–4.

  77 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 13–17.

  78 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 39–40.

  79 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 40–3.

  80 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 45.

  81 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 46.

  82 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 47–56.

  83 .

France, Victory in the East: a Military History of the

First Crusade, pp. 193–6.   84 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 56.

  85 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 60–73.

  86 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 72. There is a sense in

this

passage

that

Tancred

felt

he

had

been

outmanoeuvred by Baldwin of Boulogne.   87 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 73.

  88 .

Parsons, ‘The Valiant Man and the vilain in the tradition of the Gesta Francorum. Overeating, Taunts, and Bohemond’s Heroic Status’.

  89 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 46.

  90 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 29.

  91 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 83–4.

  92 .

W. M. Aird, Robert Curthose Duke of Normandy (c.

1050–1134) (Woodbridge, 2008), pp. 177–8.   93 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 30–1.

  94 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 33–4. W. M. Aird, ‘“Many Others, Whose Names I Do Not Know, Fled with Them”: Norman Courage and Cowardice on the First Crusade’, Hurlock and Oldfield (eds.), Crusading and Pilgrimage

in the Norman World, pp. 13–29.   95 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 86.

  96 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 34–5; J. France, ‘The Departure of Tatikios from the Crusader Army’, History, xliv (1971), 137–47.

  97 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 35–7.

  98 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 39–42.

  99 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 43–4.

100 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 44.

101 .

Albu, Normans in their Histories, pp. 157–8.

102 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 11–12.

103 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 44–8.

104 .

AA, pp. 286–90.

105 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 56.

106 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 63; J. A. Brundage, ‘An Errant Crusader: Stephen of Blois’, Traditio, xvi (1960), 380– 95.

107 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 63–5; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 96–7.

108 .

OV, v, 98.

109 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 59–60; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 118–21.

110 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 67–71; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 101–10.

111 .

In fact it seems that the emperor, having met Stephen of Blois and the other deserters, believed that the siege of Antioch was destined to fail, and his first priority was the defence of Constantinople.

112 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 74; Robert the Monk, p. 178; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 113–14. In this version Adhémar indicated that Arnulf of Chocques should succeed him in the mission allocated to him by the pope.

113 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 83–5; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 123–7.

114 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 128.

115 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 132.

116 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 87–92; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 133.

117 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 136.

118 .

OV, v, 156–8.

119 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 89–91; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 138–43.

120 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 92–3; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 148.

121 .

For Arnulf see N. Hodgson, ‘Reputation, Authority and Masculine Identities in the Political Culture of the First Crusaders: The Career of Arnulf of Chocques’, History, cii (2017), 889–913.

122 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 149–50. The reference to Guiscard’s treatment of his unnamed nephew is interesting and presumably came directly from the Hauteville family.

123 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 143–53.

124 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 92.

125 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 93.

126 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 94.

127 .

Guibert, p. 140; Gesta Francorum, p. 97; Aird, Robert

Curthose, pp. 187–8.

128 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 95–7.

129 .

Aird, Robert Curthose, pp. 191–201.

130 .

OV, v, 300.

131 .

HH, p. 454; OV, vi, 88–90.

132 .

The Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle, p. 84.

133 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 45–6.

134 .

OV, vi, 68–70.

135 .

Suger, Vie de Louis VI, pp. 44–8; Deeds of Louis the Fat (trans. Cusimano and Moorhead), pp. 43–6.

136 .

AA, p. 854.

137 .

Fulcher of Chartres, pp. 72, 85, 104, 105, 107, 165–6; Guibert of Nogent, pp. 53–4, 55–6, 61, 65, 67, 104, 109, 111, 112; WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 610, 628, 638, 680, 682; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 38, 50–1, 105–6; Bull, ‘The Capetian Monarchy and the

Early Crusading Movement: Hugh of Vermandois and Louis VII’; Naus, Constructing Kingship, pp. 28–58. 138 .

OV, vi, 68.

139 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 179–81; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 192–3. 140 .

OV, vi, 70–1.

141 .

OV, vi, 70–2.

142 .

AC, pp. 424–34.

143 .

Aird, Robert Curthose, pp. 184–6; B. Weiler, ‘The Rex

Renitens and the Medieval Idea of Kingship, ca. 900–ca. 1250’, Viator, xxxi (2000), 1–42. 144 .

OV, vi, 368, 380, 412, 440.

145 .

Warenne Chronicle, p. 84.

146 .

Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti abbatis. The Chronicle of the Reigns of Henry II and Richard I, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols, Rolls Series (London, 1867), i, 330.

147 .

Geoffrey of Vigeois, Chronica, ed. P. Labbe, Novae

bibliothecae manuscriptorum librorum, 2 vols (Paris, 1657), ii, 302. 148 .

Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, ed. H. R. Luard, 7 vols Rolls Series (London, 1872–84), ii, 159–61; Aird,

Robert Curthose, pp. 278–9; David, Robert Curthose, pp. 201–2. 149 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 702.

150 .

Gaimar, lines 5741–74.

151 .

Wace, Roman de Rou, III, lines 9685–98.

152 .

E. A. R. Brown and M. W. Cothren, ‘The TwelfthCentury Crusading Window of the Abbey of SaintDenis: Praeteritorum Enim Recordatus Futurorum et Exhibitio’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld

Institutes, xlix (1986), 1–40; P. R. Grillo, ‘The “Fin de Robert de Normandie” Episode in London, British Library, MS Add. 36615’, Medium Ævum, lxi (1992), 35–47. 153 .

David, Robert Curthose, pp. 195–6. For a recent discussion of the portrayal of Duke Robert in this text

see S. T. Parsons, ‘The Inhabitants of the British Isles on the First Crusade: Medieval Perceptions and the Invention

of

a

Pan-Angevin

Crusading

Heritage’,

English Historical Review, cxxxiv (2019), 273–301 at 289–92. 154 .

Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders?’, pp. 178–9.

155 .

Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders?’, p. 179.

156 .

Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders?’, pp. 176–7.

157 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 47–67.

158 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 158–60, 162–3; Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, p. 52.

159 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 164–5.

160 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 167.

161 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 59–68.

162 .

A. Murray, ‘How Norman Was the Principality of Antioch? Prolegomena to the Study of the Origins of the

Nobility of a Crusader State’, Keats-Rohan (ed.), Family

Trees and the Roots of Politics, pp. 349–59; A. V. Murray, ‘Norman Settlement in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem 1099–1131’, Archivio Normanno-Svevo, i (2009), 61–85, reprinted in The Franks in Outremer (Farnham, 2015). 163 .

OV, v, 32. Orderic says that the money was lent for five years; cf. Robert of Torigni in GND, ii, 210 where no time limit is mentioned; Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 74–5; History of Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 78–9.

164 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 22, 77.

165 .

Robert was born between 1050 and 1053, Aird, Robert

Curthose, p. 26; cf. Bates, William the Conqueror, p. 128 for a slightly later date of 1053 x 4. 166 .

ASC E, 1079; Historia ecclesie Abbendonensis. The

History of the Church of Abingdon, ed. and trans. J. Hudson, 2 vols (Oxford, 2002, 2007), ii, 12–14; Symeon of Durham, Historia Regum Opera omnia, ii, 211. 167 .

ASC D, E 1079.

168 .

OV, iv, 154.

169 .

OV, iv, 250.

170 .

OV, iv, 268.

171 .

JW, iii, 72.

172 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 46.

173 .

Guibert of Nogent, p. 66.

174 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 74, 133.

175 .

AA, p. 468; Gesta Francorum, pp. 95–6.

176 .

David, Robert Curthose, appendix E, pp. 230–44.

177 .

AC, p. 66, 328–30.

178 .

R.

B.

Yewdale,

Bohemond

(Princeton, NJ, 1924), p. 5. 179 .

Malaterra, p. 154.

180 .

Malaterra, pp. 155–8.

181 .

Malaterra, p. 163.

I,

Prince

of

Antioch

182 .

Malaterra, pp. 180, 185–7, 198–200.

183 .

AA, p. 274.

184 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 23.

185 .

Guibert of Nogent, pp. 58–9.

186 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 7, 10, 18; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 23.

187 .

AA, p. 94.

188 .

AC, p. 329.

189 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 30; Robert the Monk, p. 124.

190 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 36.

191 .

AA, pp. 244–6.

192 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp. 22, 85, 144–5.

193 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 34.

194 .

Robert the Monk, p. 149.

195 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 136.

196 .

AA, p. 322.

197 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 80.

198 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 93.

199 .

ASC E, 1128.

200 .

S.

John,

Godfrey

of

Bouillon:

Duke

of

Lower

Lotharingia, Ruler of Latin Jerusalem, c.1060–1100 (London, 2017). Chapter 7  The Normans and Power     1 .

Michael Mann defined power as ‘the ability to pursue and

attain

goals

through

mastery

of

one’s

environment’, The Sources of Social Power, I, The

History of Power from the Beginning to A.D. 1760 (Cambridge, 1986), p. 6.     2 .

A. Cooper and R. F. Berkhofer III (eds.), The Experience

of

Power

in

Medieval

Europe,

(London,

2017),

Introduction, pp. 1–17; J. Y. Malegam, Disputing Peace

and Violence in Medieval Europe, 1000–1200 (Ithaca,

NY, 2017); W. C. Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe (London, 2011), pp. 1–30.     3 .

T. N. Bisson in ‘The “Feudal Revolution”’, Past and

Present, 142 (1994), 6–42 and see the ensuing contributions to the debate by T. Reuter and C. Wickham in Past and Present, 155 (1997), 177–208, and Bisson’s reply, 208–25; T. Reuter, ‘All Quiet Except on the Western Front? The Emergence of Pre-Modern Forms of Statehood in the Central Middle Ages’; T. Reuter, Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities, ed. J. L. Nelson (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 432–58 at p. 436; Douglas, Norman Fate, chapters 1–3.     4 .

For example, F. Barlow, The Feudal Kingdom of

England 1042–1216, 5th edn (London, 2014).     5 .

For a brief guide see Chibnall, Debate on the Norman

Conquest, pp. 79–96.     6 .

T. N. Bisson, The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power,

Lordship and the Origins of European Government (Princeton, 2008).     7 .

M. Strickland, Anglo-Norman Warfare (Woodbridge, 1992); R. P. Abels and B. S. Bachrach (eds.), The

Normans and their Adversaries at War (Woodbridge, 2001).     8 .

S. Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings (Woodbridge, 1997).

    9 .

G. Theotokis, Norman Campaigns in the Balkans, 1081–

1118 (Woodbridge, 2016).   10 .

Stanton,

Norman

Naval

Operations

in

the

Mediterranean; G. Theotokis (ed.), Norman Naval Operations in the Mediterranean (Woodbridge, 2020).   11 .

WAp., p. 21 (Robert Guiscard at Civitate); Malaterra, p. 74 (Count Roger at Reggio); WP, pp. 130, 134 (Duke William at Hastings); Gesta Francorum, pp. 36–7, 46–7 (Bohemond at Antioch); Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, pp.

76–7,

78–9,

110–11,

131,

143–4

(Tancred’s

boldness, kills three Turks single-handed, attacks the enemy fleeing from Antioch, in battle at Jerusalem).   12 .

Malaterra, p. 116.

  13 .

Parsons, ‘The Valiant Man and the Vilain in the Tradition of the Gesta Francorum: Overeating, Taunts, and Bohemond’s Heroic Status’, pp. 40–1.

  14 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 508. The author may of course have been wanting to make a point about greed.

  15 .

AC, pp. 54, 195.

  16 .

WAp., pp. 23–4; Malaterra, pp. 64–5.

  17 .

AC, pp. 422–3.

  18 .

OV, ii, 356; cf. WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 700.

  19 .

J. O. Prestwich, ‘Military Intelligence under the Norman and Angevin Kings’, G. Garnett and J. Hudson (eds.),

War

and

Government

in

Medieval

England

and

Normandy. Essays in Honour of Sir James Holt (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 1–30.   20 .

WP, p. 122.

  21 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 44.

  22 .

Malaterra, p. 63.

  23 .

Malaterra, pp. 200, 208.

  24 .

Malaterra, p. 68.

  25 .

B. S. Bachrach, ‘Some Observations on the Military Administration

of

the

Norman

Conquest’,

Anglo-

Norman Studies, viii (1985), 1–25; B. S. Bachrach, ‘William the Conqueror’s March on London: a Logistical Analysis,’ Viator, xlviii (2017), 115–38.   26 .

G. D. Bell, ‘In Starvation’s Shadow: the Role of Logistics in the Strained Byzantine-European Relations during the First Crusade’, Byzantion, lxxx (2010), 38– 71.

  27 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 14.

  28 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 28, 30, 32–3.

  29 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 62.

  30 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 88–90.

  31 .

Malaterra, pp. 65, 75 (Roger); WAp., p. 23 (Robert Guiscard).

  32 .

WAp., p. 27 (Bari), Malaterra, pp. 117–18, 124–5.

  33 .

Malaterra, pp. 73 (blinding of Walter, castellan of Guillimaco), 114–15 (relocation of Sicilian captives to

mainland), 140 (enslaving captives).   34 .

OV, ii, 230–2.

  35 .

ASC E, 1087; OV, ii, 320–2.

  36 .

OV, ii, 268.

  37 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 564.

  38 .

Biographer of Leo IX, as cited in Loud, Age of Robert

Guiscard, p. 114.   39 .

A. Smith, ‘Pope Leo IX: A Reforming Pope’, History

Compass,

xvii

(2019),

https://doi-

org.ezproxy.is.ed.ac.uk/10.1111/hic3.12588.   40 .

PL, cxliii, cols. 0499B–0501A, ‘Life of Leo IX’, The Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century. Lives of Pope Leo IX and Pope Gregory VII, translated and annotated by I. S. Robinson (Manchester, 2013), chapters 20 and 21.

  41 .

Benzo of Alba, ‘Ad Heinricum Imperatorem libri VII’,

Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, lxv, ed. H. Seyffert (Hannover, 1996), p. 268.

  42 .

Amatus, pp. 57–61, 64, 67–8, 88 (Pandulf); 101–3, 123– 8, 187–203 (Gisulf); Loud, Latin Church in Norman

Italy, pp. 140–1; Cowdrey, Age of Abbot Desiderius, pp. 122–44.   43 .

Falco, Roger II and the Creation of the Kingdom of

Sicily, ed. G. A. Loud (Manchester, 2012), pp. 213, 226, 240, 242, 244–5.   44 .

E. Tounta, ‘Terror and Territorium in Alexander of Telese’s Ystoria Rogerii Regis: Political Cultures in the Norman

Kingdom

of

Sicily’,

Journal

of

Medieval

History, xl (2014), 142–58.   45 .

English Historical Documents, II, 1042–1189, eds. D. C. Douglas and G. W. Greenway, 2nd edn (London, 1981), no. 99, pp. 690–2.

  46 .

OV, ii, 272–8, 228–32, 320–2, 346–8.

  47 .

De Gestis Herwardi Saxonis, transcribed by S. H. Miller, translated by W. D. Sweeting (Peterborough, 1895), p. 33. This text survives only in a thirteenthcentury manuscript but is thought to draw on older accounts.

  48 .

Bates, William the Conqueror, p. 515.

  49 .

Orderic in GND, ii, 124.

  50 .

D. C. Douglas, William the Conqueror (London, 1964), Appendix F pp. 408–15.

  51 .

E.g. OV, vi, 96–100.

  52 .

J.

Rubinstein,

‘Cannibals

and

Crusaders’,

French

Historical Studies, xxxi (2008), 525–52.   53 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 79–80, 91–2.

  54 .

Gesta Tancredi, p. 145. This passage follows the incident where Tancred seized a silver image in the Temple but used it to pay his men, and to help the poor.

  55 .

R. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford, 2001); M. Keen, Chivalry (New Haven and London, 1984); Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe.

  56 .

D. Crouch, The Chivalric Turn: Conduct and Hegemony

in Europe before 1300 (Oxford, 2019).

  57 .

J. Gillingham, ‘1066 and the Introduction of Chivalry into England’, Garnett and Hudson (eds.), Law and

Government in Medieval England and Normandy, pp. 31–55; M. Strickland, War and Chivalry: the Conduct

and Perception of War in England and Normandy 1066– 1217 (Cambridge, 1996), chapter 1, pp. 1–30.   58 .

ASC E 1096.

  59 .

HH, pp. 698–700.

  60 .

OV, vi, 352–4.

  61 .

P. Toubert, Les structures du Latium médiéval. Le

Latium méridional et la Sabine du 9e siècle à la fin du 12e siècle (Rome, 1973), i, 330–54; A. Augenti and P. Galetti (eds.), L’Incastellamento: Storia e Archeologia (Spoleto, 2018); P. Arthur, ‘Incastellamento (or not) in Southern Apulia’, L’Incastellamento, pp. 435–61; G. Loud, ‘Continuity and Change in Norman Italy: the Campania during the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’,

Journal of Medieval History, xxii (1996), 313–43; Carocci, Lordships of Southern Italy. Rural Societies,

Aristocratic Powers and Monarchy in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries trans. L. Byatt (Rome, 2018).

  62 .

B. Major, Medieval Rural Settlements in the Syrian

Coastal

Region

Archaeolingua

(12th Central

and

13th

European

Centuries), Architectural

Heritage, ix (Oxford, 2016).   63 .

Feller, ‘The Northern Frontier of Norman Italy, 1060– 1140’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society of Norman

Italy.   64 .

J.-M. Martin, ‘Settlement and the Agrarian Economy’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society of Norman Italy, pp. 17–45, at p. 22.

  65 .

P. Skinner, ‘The Tyrrhenian Coastal Cities under the Normans’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society of Norman

Italy, pp. 75–96.   66 .

Arthur, ‘Incastellamento (or not) in Southern Apulia’, Augenti and Galetti (eds.), L’Incastellamento.

  67 .

Martin, ‘Settlement and the Agrarian Economy’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society of Norman Italy, p. 34;.

  68 .

Carocci, Lordships of Southern Italy, p. 96.

  69 .

A. Rio, Slavery after Rome, 500–1100 (Oxford, 2017), pp. 35–8; J. A. Taylor, ‘Freedom and Bondage among Muslims in Southern Italy during the Thirteenth Century’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, xxvii (2007), 71–7; C. Backman, The Decline and Fall of

Medieval Sicily. Politics, Religion and Economy in the Reign of Frederick III, 1296–1337 (Cambridge, 2009), 249–68.   70 .

R. D. Smith, ‘The Business of Human Trafficking: Slaves and Money between Western Italy and the House of Islam before the Crusades’, Journal of

Medieval History, xlv (2019), 523–52.   71 .

Green, Aristocracy of Norman England, pp. 48–125.

  72 .

Symeon of Durham, Historia Regum, Opera omnia, ii, 188; JW, iii, 10–11; Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and

Lordship. Yorkshire 1066–1154, pp. 23–78.   73 .

H. C. Darby, Domesday England (Cambridge, 1977), pp. 61–94; R. L. Lennard, Rural England, 1086–1135: A

Study of Social and Agrarian Conditions (Oxford, 1959), pp. 339–92; R. Faith, The English Peasantry and the

Growth of Lordship (London, 1997), pp. 201–23; S.

Baxter, ‘Lordship and Labour’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.), Social History of England 900–1200, pp. 98–114.   74 .

D. Banham and R. Faith, Anglo-Saxon Farms and

Farming (Oxford, 2014), pp. 299–300; J. S. Moore, ‘Domesday Slavery’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xi (1989), 191–220.   75 .

Baxter, ‘Lordship and Labour’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.), Social History of England, pp. 106–7; R. Welldon Finn, The Norman Conquest and Its Effects on the

Economy 1066–1086 (London, 1970), p. 35.   76 .

Faith, The English Peasantry and the Growth of

Lordship, pp. 69–70.   77 .

R. Faith, The Moral Economy of the Countryside. Anglo-

Saxon to Anglo-Norman England (Cambridge, 2020), pp. 127–68.   78 .

N. Karn, Kings, Lords and Courts in Anglo-Norman

England (Woodbridge, 2020).   79 .

See, for example, the comments of Sandro Carocci, ‘Reframing Norman Italy’, R. Balzaretti, J. Barrow and P. Skinner (eds.), Italy and Early Medieval Europe.

Papers for Chris Wickham (Oxford, 2018), pp. 171–81

and, in the same volume, G. Loud, ‘Labour Services and Peasant Obligations in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century Southern Italy’, pp. 182–98.   80 .

C. Tilly, ‘States, State Transformation and War’, J. H. Bentley (ed.), Oxford Handbook of World History (Oxford,

2011),

https://www-oxfordhandbooks-

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T.

Reuter, ‘“All Quiet Except on the Western Front”? The Emergence of Pre-Modern Forms of Statehood in the Central Middle Ages’, Medieval Polities and Modern

Mentalities (ed. Nelson); J. R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State (Princeton, NJ, 1970); R. R. Davies,

‘The

Medieval

State:

The

Tyranny

of

a

Concept’, Journal of Historical Sociology, xvi (2003), 280–300; S. Reynolds, ‘There Were States in Medieval Europe: A Response to Rees Davies’, Journal of

Historical Sociology, xvi (2003), 550–5.   81 .

Reuter, ‘All Quiet Except on the Western Front’,

Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities (ed. Nelson), p. 437.   82 .

M. Bloch, Feudal Society, trans. L. A. Manyon, 2 vols (Chicago, 1968), i, 187–8; ii, 421–37.

  83 .

D. Crouch, The Image of Aristocracy in Britain 1000–

1300 (London and New York, 1992), 1.1, pp. 41–9; Baxter, Earls of Mercia, pp. 12, 64–71.   84 .

H. Pryce, ‘Welsh Rulers and European Change, c. 1100– 1282’, H. Pryce and J. Watts (eds.), Power and Identity

in the Middle Ages. Essays in Honour of Rees Davies (Oxford, 2007), 37–51; A. Taylor, The Shape of the State

in Medieval Scotland 1124–1290 (Oxford, 2016), pp. 25–81.   85 .

Amatus, p. 57; Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 132–3.

  86 .

AC, p. 431.

  87 .

Amatus, p. 60.

  88 .

Amatus, p. 65.

  89 .

Amatus, p. 87.

  90 .

Amatus, pp. 68–76.

  91 .

Amatus, p. 76.

  92 .

Amatus, pp. 77–8 (succession at Aversa), 79–80 (Drogo de Hauteville confers the title of Count of Marsia), 94 (Humphrey succeeds Drogo).

  93 .

Amatus, p. 99.

  94 .

Amatus, pp. 113–14.

  95 .

Amatus, p. 104.

  96 .

M.

Stroll,

Popes

and

Antipopes:

Eleventh-Century Church Reform

The

Politics

(Leiden,

of

Boston,

2011), pp. 33–84.   97 .

Malaterra, p. 62.

  98 .

For a discussion of the relationship thus established, see Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, pp. 137–66.

  99 .

WAp., p. 25; Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 198-9.

100 .

Recueil des actes des Ducs normands d’Italie (1046– 1127), I, (ed. Ménager), nos. 27–8, 33, pp. 95–8, 105–8, as cited by Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 140.

101 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 179–80. Roger made sure that none of his subordinates in Sicily called themselves count.

102 .

H. Houben, Roger II of Sicily. A Ruler between East and

West (Cambridge, 2002), p. 32. 103 .

Houben, Roger II, p. 30.

104 .

Houben, Roger II, pp. 46–7.

105 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 304–6; B. Weiler, ‘Crown-Giving and King-Making in the Medieval West CA. 1000–CA. 1250’, Viator, xli (2010), 57–88. 106 .

Romuald of Salerno states specifically that Roger refused Anacletus’s request for homage, Roger II and

the Creation of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), p. 255. 107 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II (trans. Loud), pp. 63, 126–9.

108 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II (trans. Loud), pp. 77–8.

109 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II (trans. Loud), p. 79; R. Elze, ‘Tre Ordines per l’incorazione di un re e di una regina del regno normanno di Sicilia’, Atti di Congresso

internazionale di studi sulla Sicilia normanna (Palermo 4–8 dicembre 1972) (Palermo, 1973), pp. 440–2, 445– 62.

S.

Burkhardt,

‘Sicily’s

Imperial

Heritage’,

Burkhardt and Foerster (eds.), Norman Tradition and

Transcultural Heritage, pp. 149–60. 110 .

For the development of London see C. N. L. Brooke and G. Keir, London 800–1216: The Shaping of a City (London, 1975); R. Naismith, Citadel of the Saxons: The

Rise of Early London (London, New York, 2019); Green, Forging the Kingdom, chapter 8, pp. 198–220. 111 .

Anna Comnena makes it clear that the oath sworn by Godfrey of Bouillon was that whatever territories he captured which had formerly belonged to the emperor were to be restored, p. 323. She described the oath taken by Bohemond as an oath of allegiance, pp. 327–8. In her detailed account of the Treaty of Devol, she represented Bohemond as taking an oath of allegiance and promising to wage war against his nephew Tancred unless the latter was willing to relax his grip on the cities which belonged to the emperor, pp. 424–9. For

discussion see Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 92– 8. 112 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 130–1.

113 .

AA, pp. 552–3; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 170 says only that the city was left to Tancred ‘without protection, wages, gems, and clothing’.

114 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 167.

115 .

AC, pp. 423–35. The title had been revived by Alexios Comnenos.

116 .

AC, pp. 438–9; Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of

Antioch, pp. 136–7. In one charter he described himself as ‘duke and prince of Antioch’. 117 .

AA, p. 702.

118 .

Asbridge, p. 139 citing Delaborde, pp. 26–7 n. 4; Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, p. 140.

119 .

AA, pp. 836–7; Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of

Antioch, pp. 139–42.

120 .

Walter the Chancellor, pp. 143–5; Asbridge, Creation of

the Principality of Antioch, pp. 142–3. 121 .

Willelmi Tyrensis Archiepiscopi Chronicon, ed. R. B. C. Huygens, 2 vols, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis, 63, 63A (Turnhout, 1986), 11, 29, pp. 541– 2; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done Beyond the

Sea, trans. E. A. Babcock and A. C. Krey, 2 vols (New York, 1943), i, 59–60; A. W. Murray, ‘Constance Princess of

Antioch

(1130–1164),

Ancestry,

Marriages

and

Family’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxviii (2015), 84–6. 122 .

The Deeds of John Kinnamos, trans. C. W. Brand (New York, 1976) p. 22; Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 100–1.

123 .

Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 86–7.

124 .

Willelmi Tyrensis (ed. Huygens), 17, 18–19, 17, 26, pp. 785–7, 795–6; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done

Beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), i, 59–60, 77– 9. 125 .

G.

Garnett,

‘Coronation

and

Propaganda:

Some

Implications of the Norman Claim to the Throne in

1066’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th Series, xxxvi (1986), 91–116. 126 .

Bates, Acta of William I, pp. 85–92.

127 .

H.

Enzenberger,

‘Chanceries,

Charters

and

Administration in Norman Italy’, Beitrage zum Kanzlei

und Urkundenwesen der Normannischen Herrscher Unteritaliens und Siziliens (Konstanz, 1971), pp. 117– 50 at pp. 141–5. 128 .

W.

Ullmann,

‘Roman

Public

Law

and

Medieval

Monarchy: Norman Rulership in Sicily’, Acta Juridica, clvii (1978), 157–84 at 167. 129 .

Ullmann, ‘Roman Public Law’, 174.

130 .

Bates, Acta of William I, pp. 85, 594–601.

131 .

B. M. Bedos-Rezak, When Ego was Imago: Signs of

Identity in the Middle Ages (Leiden, Boston, 2011); J. Cherry, J. Berenboim and L. de Beer (eds.), Seals and

Status: The Power of Objects (London, 2013). 132 .

By the mid-eleventh century the use of seals was spreading in northern France. J.-F. Nieus has argued that the seal of William the Conqueror may have been

an important stimulus in the Anglo-Norman world, ‘Early Aristocratic Seals: an Anglo-Norman Success Story’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxviii (2015), 97–103. Whether this practice influenced the Normans in the south is unclear. It may be that in Italy the Normans simply adopted Byzantine practice. 133 .

Loud, ‘Chancery and Charters’, p. 797.

134 .

A. Engel, Recherches sur la numismatique et la

sigillographie des Normands de Sicile et d’Italie (Paris, 1882), pp. 82–3. 135 .

Houben, Roger II, p. 120.

136 .

M. D’Onofrio (ed.), Les Normands. Peuple d’Europe

1030–1200 (Venice, 1994), p. 402, plates 69, 70. 137 .

Paul, ‘A Warlord’s Wisdom’, 552–3.

138 .

Engel,

Recherches

sur

la

numismatique

et

la

sigillographie des Normands de Sicile et d’Italie, plate II, 1. 139 .

Yewdale, Bohemond I, Prince of Antioch, p. 105 citing Philippi

Parutae

and

Leonardus

Augustini,

Sicilia

Numismatica (Leiden, 1723), I, cols. 1261–2; II, tab. clxxxviii, no. 1. 140 .

Engel,

Recherches

sur

la

numismatique

et

la

sigillographie des Normands de Sicile et d’Italie, plate II, 3. 141 .

F. Barlow, Edward the Confessor (London, 1970), p. 135; B. M. Bedos-Rezak, ‘The King Enthroned, a New Theme in Anglo-Saxon Royal Iconography: The Seal of Edward the Confessor and Its Political Implications’, (Bedos-Rezak), Form and Power in Medieval France:

Studies

in

Social

and

Quantitative

Sigillography

(Aldershot, 1993), IV, pp. 54–88. 142 .

Bates, William the Conqueror, pp. 271–4.

143 .

Nieus, ‘Early Aristocratic Seals: an Anglo-Norman Success Story’, 101–3; Bates, Acta of William I, nos. 141, 144, pp. 469–71, 476–8.

144 .

F. Barlow, William Rufus (London, 1983), pp. 59–60, and plate 1b facing p. 74.

145 .

Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, p. 298 corrects P. Chaplais, ‘The Seals and Original Charters of Henry I’,

English Historical Review, lxxv (1960), 260–75 on the date of the fourth seal. 146 .

R. Naismith (ed.), Money and Coinage in the Middle

Ages (Boston, Leiden, 2018); P. Spufford, Money and Its Uses in Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1988). 147 .

L. Travaini, ‘The Normans between Byzantium and the Islamic World’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, lv (2001), 179– 206.

148 .

L. Travaini, ‘Coins and Identity: From Mint to Paradise’, Naismith (ed.), Money and Coinage in the Middle Ages, pp. 320–49 at p. 322.

149 .

P. Grierson, ‘The Salernitan Coinage of Gisulf II (1052– 77) and Robert Guiscard (1077–85)’, Proceedings of the

British School at Rome, xxiv (1956), 37–59, image at p. 49. 150 .

Recherches sur la numismatique et la sigillographie des Normands de Sicile et d’Italie, pp. 24–6.

151 .

Recherches sur la numismatique et la sigillographie des Normands de Sicile et d’Italie, pp. 26–8.

152 .

Falco of Benevento, Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), p. 245; P. Morgan, ‘Tokens of his Rule: The Royal Image on the Coins of Roger II’, Comitatus, l (2019), 21–44. 153 .

For a recent review of the subject see R. Naismith, ‘The Historian and Anglo-Saxon Coinage: The Case of Late Anglo-Saxon England’, R. Naismith and D. A. Woodman (eds.), Writing, Kingship and Power in Anglo-Saxon

England (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 162–80. 154 .

The Chew Valley Hoard, Current Archaeology, October 2019, https://www.archaeology.co.uk/articles/the-chewvalley-hoard.htm.

155 .

Archibald, English Romanesque Art, p. 327.

156 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, p. 211.

157 .

Asbridge, Creation of the Principality of Antioch, pp. 131, 136.

158 .

Engel and Serrure, Traité de numismatique du moyen

âge, ii, 908.

159 .

See especially G. Garnett, The Norman Conquest. A

Very Short Introduction (Oxford, 2009), pp. 73–89. 160 .

Baxter, Earls of Mercia, pp. 71–124.

161 .

Holt, ‘The Introduction of Knight Service into England’; cf. N. Brooks, ‘The Archbishopric of Canterbury and the So-called Introduction of Knight Service into England’,

Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxiv (2011), 41–62. 162 .

J. Hill, ‘The Catalogus Baronum and the Recruitment of the Armies of the Norman Kingdom of Sicily: A Reexamination’, Historical Research, lxxxvi (2013), 1–14, at 3–4.

163 .

Houben, Roger II, p. 154.

164 .

Cartae Baronum, ed. N. Stacy, Pipe Roll Society, new series, lxii (2019).

165 .

Hill, ‘Catalogus Baronum and the Recruitment of the Armies of the Norman Kingdom of Sicily’, 7.

166 .

Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 158–168.

167 .

Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 155–68; Buck,

Principality of Antioch, pp. 111–12, 159–60. 168 .

Ullmann, ‘Roman Public Law and Medieval Monarchy: Norman

Rulership

in

Sicily’,

pp.

166–78;

H.

Wierusowski, ‘Roger II of Sicily, Rex Tyrannicus, in Twelfth-Century Political Thought’, Speculum, xxxviii (1963), 46–78. 169 .

See, for example, R. A. Brown, The Normans and the

Norman Conquest, 2nd edn (Woodbridge, 1985), p. 187. 170 .

J. Maddicott, The Origins of the English Parliament

924–1327 (Oxford, 2010), pp. 49–105. 171 .

D. Abulafia and N. Berend (eds.), Medieval Frontiers:

Concepts and Practices (Aldershot, 2002); D. Power and N. Standen (eds.), Frontiers in Question: Eurasian

Borderlands 700–1700 (Basingstoke, 1999). 172 .

L. Hicks, ‘The Concept of the Frontier in Norman Chronicles: A Comparative Approach’, K. J. Stringer and

A.

Jotischky

(eds.),

Norman

Expansion:

Connections, Continuities, Contrasts (Farnham, 2013), pp. 143–64.

173 .

Feller, ‘The Northern Frontier of Norman Italy, 1060– 1140’.

174 .

R. Sharpe, Norman Rule in Cumbria, 1092–1136, Cumberland

and

Westmorland

Antiquarian

and

Archaeological Society Tract Series, 21 (2006). 175 .

P. Landau, ‘The Development of Law’, New Cambridge

Medieval History, IV part 1, 113–47. 176 .

A.

Winroth,

The

Making

of

Gratian’s

Decretum

(Cambridge, 2000). 177 .

J. A. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law (London, 2011).

178 .

Head and Landes (eds.), The Peace of God: Social

Violence and Religious Response in France around the Year 1000. 179 .

Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, pp. 443–5, 452–3.

180 .

Loud, ‘Norman Sicily in the Twelfth Century’, New

Cambridge Medieval History, IV part 2, 445. 181 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), p. 75.

182 .

Lambert, Law and Order in Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 342–8.

183 .

O’Brien, God’s Peace and King’s Peace, pp. 64–5, 160– 1.

184 .

Stubbs,

Select

Charters,

p.

119;

https://earlyenglishlaws.ac.uk/laws/texts/hncor/view/#edition/translation 185 .

Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II, 386–8.

186 .

Dealing with the kingdom of Jerusalem but with much of relevance for Antioch: M. Nader, ‘Urban Muslims, Latin Laws, and Legal Institutions in the Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Medieval Encounters, xiii (2007), 243–70.

187 .

Matthew, Norman Kingdom of Sicily, pp. 245–52.

188 .

Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II, 255–487.

189 .

HKB, p. 174.

190 .

Below, p. 200.

191 .

Matthew, Norman Kingdom of Sicily, pp. 234–41.

192 .

Matthew, Norman Kingdom of Sicily, p. 237.

193 .

A.

Nef,

‘State,

Aggregation

of

the

Elites

and

Redistribution of Resources in Sicily in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, J. Hudson and A. Rodriguez (eds.), Diverging Paths? The Shapes of Power and

Institutions in Medieval Christendom (Leiden, 2014), pp. 230–47, at p. 237. 194 .

Ralph of Caen, pp. 170–1; Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 86–7.

195 .

M. K. Lawson, ‘The Collection of Danegeld and Heregeld in the Reigns of Æthelred II and Cnut’,

English Historical Review, xcix (1984), 721–38. 196 .

J. O. Prestwich, ‘War and Finance in the Anglo-Norman State’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th series, iv (1954), 19–43.

197 .

Wickham, Medieval Europe, p. 38.

198 .

ASC D, 1066, E 1084.

199 .

D. Pratt, ‘Demesne Exemption from Royal Taxation in Anglo-Saxon

and

Anglo-Norman

England’,

English

Historical Review, cxxviii (2013), 1–34; D. Pratt, ‘Charters and Exemption from Geld in Anglo-Saxon England’, Naismith and Woodman (eds.), Writing,

Kingship and Power in Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 181– 201; S. Harvey, ‘Taxation and the Economy’, Holt (ed.),

Domesday Studies, pp. 249–64; J. A. Green, ‘The Last Century of Danegeld’, English Historical Review, xcvi (1981), 241–58; J. H. Round, ‘Danegeld and the Finance of Domesday’, Dove (ed.), Domesday Studies, 2 vols (London, 1888, 1891), i, pp. 77–142. 200 .

Green, ‘Last Century of Danegeld’, 243–5.

201 .

Regesta

Regum

Anglo-Normannorum,

II,

Regesta

Henrici Primi 1100–1135, eds. C. Johnson and H. A. Cronne (Oxford, 1956), nos. 888, 894, 1039*, 1134, 1135, 1174*, 1238, 1239, 1240, 1276*, 1288, 1292, 1358, 1449, 1468, 1482*, 1489, 1599a, 1618, 1654, 1673, 1726, 1740, 1741, 1804. The asterisks indicate that the editors thought the documents to be forgeries. 202 .

Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, pp. 39, 46, 66, 71, 90, 121, 122, 126 and 102, 104 (gifts).

203 .

E. Amt, The Accession of Henry II in England. Royal

Government Restored 1149–1159 (Woodbridge, 1993), pp. 113–81. 204 .

Green, ‘Last Century of Danegeld’, 254–8.

205 .

The rulers of Antioch, like northern kings, had their own courts organized on the lines of great households with constables, chancellors and chamberlains, but not, as far as can be seen, a corps of agents who might reasonably be described as bureaucrats: Asbridge,

Principality of Antioch, pp. 182–9; Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 92–5. 206 .

From Memory to Written Record.

207 .

Loud, ‘The Chancery and the Charters of the Kings of Sicily (1130–1212)’, 787–793; Becker, ‘Charters and Chancery under Roger I and Roger II’, p. 84; Skinner,

Family Power in Southern Italy, pp. 191–4. 208 .

Johns, Arabic Administration in Sicily, pp. 212–56; Metcalfe, Muslims of Medieval Italy, pp. 193–208.

209 .

H. Takayama, ‘“Familiares Regis” and the Royal Inner Council in Twelfth-Century Sicily’, English Historical

Review,

civ

(1989),

357–82;

for

Antioch,

Buck,

Principality of Antioch, pp. 92–5. 210 .

Loud, ‘Chancery and Charters’; Becker, ‘Charters and Chancery’.

211 .

Johns, Arabic Administration in Sicily, pp. 298–300.

212 .

Loud, ‘Chancery and Charters’, 793.

213 .

Johns, Arabic Administration in Sicily, pp. 69–74, 81–6.

214 .

Matthew, Norman Kingdom of Sicily, pp. 242–5.

215 .

Johns, Arabic Administration in Sicily, pp. 69–74.

216 .

Johns, Arabic Administration in Sicily, pp. 69–74; Houben, Roger II, pp. 33–4, 38–9, 81–2.

217 .

A. Nef, Conquérir et Gouverner la Sicile Islamique aux

XIe et XIIe siècles (Rome, 2011), pp. 243–301 for a review of past historiography and of the evidence. 218 .

A. Marongiu, ‘A Model State in the Middle Ages: the Norman and Swabian Kingdom of Sicily’, Comparative

Studies of Society and History, vi (1964), 307–20; Douglas, Norman Fate, pp. 2–3, 120, 217.

219 .

Keynes, ‘Regenbald the Chancellor (sic)’.

220 .

T. A. M. Bishop, Scriptores Regis. Facsimiles to Identify

and Illustrate the Hands of Royal Scribes in Original Charters of Henry I, Stephen and Henry II (Oxford, 1961), p. 30. 221 .

M. T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record.

England 1066–1307, 3rd edn (Oxford, 2013), p. 37. 222 .

M. Hagger, ‘A Pipe Roll for 25 Henry I’, English

Historical Review, cxxii (2007), 133–40; Pipe Roll 31 Henry I. 223 .

Sharpe, ‘The Earliest Norman Sheriffs’; Green, English

Sheriffs to 1154. 224 .

Allen, Mints and Money in Medieval England, pp. 14– 15; P. Nightingale, ‘Some London Moneyers and Reflections on the Organization of English Mints in the Eleventh

and

Twelfth

Centuries’,

Numismatic

Chronicle, cxlii (1982), 34–50; J. McNair Dodgson and J. J. N. Palmer (eds.), Domesday Book, Index of Persons (Chichester, 1992) under forester and huntsman for those named in Domesday Book.

225 .

OV, vi, 16.

226 .

J. F. A. Mason, ‘Flambard, Ranulf (c.1060–1128)’,

ODNB. 227 .

Dialogus de Scaccario: the Dialogue of the Exchequer, ed. and trans. E. Amt; Constitutio Domus Regis:

Disposition of the King’s Household, ed. and trans. S. D. Church (Oxford, 2007), p. 6; K. Yoshitake, ‘The Place of Government in Transition: Winchester, Westminster and London in the Twelfth Century’, P. Dalton and D. Luscombe (eds.), Rulership and Rebellion in the Anglo-

Norman World, c.1066–c.1216. Essays in Honour of Professor Edmund King (Farnham, 2015), pp. 61–75. 228 .

E. J. Kealey, Roger of Salisbury (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1972), pp. 26–81.

229 .

The

History

of

the

Tyrants

of

Sicily

by

‘Hugo

Falcandus’, trans. and annotated by G. A. Loud and T. Wiedemann (Manchester, 2013), pp. 94–7, cf. p. 229 for the account of Romuald of Salerno. 230 .

Symeon of Durham, Opera omnia, ii, 283; D. Crouch, ‘Geoffrey de Clinton and Roger Earl of Warwick: New

Men and Magnates in the Reign of Henry I’, [Bulletin of

the Institute of] Historical Research, lv (1982), 113–24. 231 .

WM, Historia Novella, pp. 44–8, 64–8.

232 .

M. Weber, Economy and Society, ed. and trans. K. Tribe (Cambridge, MA, 2019), p. 136.

233 .

For Sicily see Falcandus, G. A. Loud, ‘The Image of the Tyrant in the Work of ‘Hugo Falcandus’, Nottingham

Medieval Studies, lvii (2013), 1–20; for England see the comments by The Letters of John of Salisbury, II, The

Later Letters (1163–1180), eds. and trans. H. E. Butler and W. J. Millor, revised by C. N. L. Brooke (Oxford, 1979), pp. 237–8, 429–30, 455–8. 234 .

‘Assizes of Ariano’, cap. xviii, Roger II and the Creation

of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 320–1; Glanvill, i. 2, ed. Hall, p. 3. 235 .

Assises d’Antioche reproduits en français éd. et trad. La Société Mekhariste de Saint-Lazare (Venice, 1876), caps. I–V.

236 .

Bisson, Crisis of the Twelfth Century. Power, Lordship,

and the Origins of European Government, pp. 12–18.

237 .

W. L. Warren, ‘The Myth of Norman Administrative Efficiency’,

Transactions

of

the

Royal

Historical

Society, 5th series, xxxiv (1984), 113–32; Stringer, The Reign of Stephen, pp. 8–13. 238 .

Nef,

‘State,

Aggregation

of

the

Elites

and

Redistribution of Resources in Sicily in the Eleventh and

Twelfth

Interpretation’,

Centuries. Hudson

Proposals and

for

a

Rodriguez

New (eds.),

Diverging Paths?, pp. 230–47. Chapter 8  The Normans and the Church     1 .

G. A. Loud, ‘The Papacy and the Rulers of Southern Italy, 1058–1198’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society of

Norman Italy, pp. 151–84.     2 .

WAp., p. 25; see above, p. 262 n. 99.

    3 .

Malaterra, p. 111; in 1076 Gregory wrote to Archbishop Arnold of Acerenza instructing him to absolve Count Roger and his knights who were fighting the Muslims in Sicily, Registrum, III.11, Register of Pope Gregory VII (trans. Cowdrey), pp. 193–4.

    4 .

Pope Paschal II to Count Roger of Sicily, 1117, Roger II

and the Creation of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud),

pp. 303–4; for discussion, see Loud, Latin Church in

Southern Italy, pp. 148–51.     5 .

Amatus, pp. 92, 101, 168–9, 203–4; Malaterra, pp. 209– 11. For the twelfth century see Falco of Benevento,

Roger II and the Creation of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 130–249. For the relations between the abbey and its neighbours, G. A. Loud, ‘A Lombard Abbey in a Norman World: St Sophia, Benevento, 1050– 1200’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xix (1996), 273–305.     6 .

Malaterra, pp. 166–70.

    7 .

Loud, Latin Church in Southern Italy, pp. 181–254.

    8 .

J. D. Mansi, Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima

collectio, edn in 53 vols (Paris, 1901–27), xx, cc. 724–5, 790; xxi, cc. 139–40. For the truce of 1120, Les Chartes

de Troia: Edition et étude critique des plus anciens documents conservés à l’archivio capitolare, I (1024– 1266), ed. J.-M. Martin (Bari, 1976), no. 43, as cited in P. Oldfield, ‘The Use and Abuse of Pilgrimage in Norman Italy’, Hurlock and Oldfield (eds.), Crusading

and Pilgrimage in the Norman World, pp. 139–56 at p. 145. For a reference to the Truce of God in the Abruzzi, see Loud, Latin Church in Southern Italy, p. 77.

    9 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 304–6.   10 .

Alexander of Telese, Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 310–12.   11 .

Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, pp. 164–5, 170–1;

Le Liber Pontificalis, ed. L. Duchesne, 3 vols (Paris, 1889–1952), ii, 394–6; Romualdi Salernitani Chronicon, ed. C. A. Garufi, Rerum Italicarum Scriptorum, 2nd edn (Citta di Castello, 1935), pp. 237–40; History of the

Tyrants of Sicily by “Hugo Falcandus” (trans. Loud and Wiedemann), pp. 248–52.   12 .

In general see F. Barlow, The English Church 1000–

1066, 2nd edn (London, 1979); on Peter’s Pence, see most recently, R. Naismith and F. Tinti, ‘The Origins of Peter’s

Pence’,

English

Historical

Review,

cxxxiv

(2019), 521–52.   13 .

H. R. Loyn, The English Church, 940–1154 (Harlow, 2000), chapters 1–3; D. Pratt, ‘The Voice of the King in “King Edgar’s Establishment of Monasteries”’, Anglo-

Saxon England, xli (2012), 145–204; C. Cubitt, ‘Review Article: The Tenth-Century Benedictine Reform in England’, Early Medieval Europe, vi (1997), 77–94.

  14 .

WP, pp. 104–5; C. Morton, ‘Pope Alexander II and the Norman Conquest’, Latomus, xxxiv (1975), 362–82; letter of Gregory VII, English Historical Documents, II, no. 99, 690–2.

  15 .

Bates, William the Conqueror, pp. 334–8.

  16 .

For

the

Canterbury–York

dispute,

see

Hugh

the

Chanter, pp. xxx–xlv; for the Canterbury case and for Archdeacon Hildebrand’s request that Lanfranc visit Rome, see Letters of Lanfranc, nos. 3–6, pp. 38–59.   17 .

Letters of Lanfranc, no. 38, pp. 128–30.

  18 .

Letters of Lanfranc, no. 39, pp. 130–2.

  19 .

Eadmer, The Life of St Anselm, p. 115; Historia

Novorum, pp. 104–10; History of Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 108–10.   20 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 120–1; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 125–6.   21 .

For the personal reconciliation of Henry and Anselm at L’Aigle, Historia Novorum, pp. 165–6; History of Recent

Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 176–7. For the Council

of London in 1107, Historia Novorum, p. 186; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), p. 199.   22 .

For John of Crema’s legation, Councils and Synods with

Other Documents Relating to the English Church, I, part ii, 1066–1154, eds. D. Whitelock, M. Brett and C. N. L. Brooke (Oxford, 1981), pp. 730–2; S. Burton Hicks, ‘The Anglo-Papal Bargain of 1125: The Legatine Mission of John of Crema’, Albion, viii (1976), 301–10.   23 .

For appeals under Henry I, M. Brett, The English

Church under Henry I (Oxford, 1975), pp. 50–7; for the background

to

clause

8

of

the

Constitutions

of

Clarendon of 1164 in which appeals were only to proceed to Rome with royal permission, A. Duggan,

Thomas Becket (London, 2004), pp. 58–9; A. Duggan, ‘Henry II, the English Church and the Papacy’, C. Harper-Bill and N. Vincent (eds.), Henry II: New

Interpretations (Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 154–83.   24 .

Epistvlae et Chartae ad Historiam Primi Belli Sacri Spectantes (ed. Hagenmeyer), no. xvi, pp. 161–5; Letters from the East (trans. Barber and Bate), no. 8, pp. 30–3.

  25 .

Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, pp. 195–213; Walter the Chancellor referred to the acies Sancti Petri, Bella

Antiochena, ed. H. Hagenmeyer (Innsbruck, 1896), I, vii, 3. Walter the Chancellor, p. 105.   26 .

B. Hamilton, ‘Ralph of Domfront, Patriarch of Antioch’,

Nottingham Medieval Studies, xxviii (1984), 1–21.   27 .

Willelmi

Tyrensis

Archiepiscopi

Chronicon

(ed.

Huygens), 14, 10, p. 642; William of Tyre, A History of

Deeds Done beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), i, 619–20; Hamilton, ‘Ralph of Domfront’, 6.   28 .

Willelmi

Tyrensis

Archiepiscopi

Chronicon

(ed.

Huygens), 14, 20, p. 658; William of Tyre, A History of

Deeds Done beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), i, 514; Hamilton, ‘Ralph of Domfront’, 9.   29 .

Hamilton, ‘Ralph of Domfront’, 10–21.

  30 .

Van Houts, ‘Norman Conquest through European Eyes’.

  31 .

Loud, Norman Church in Italy, pp. 363–429.

  32 .

N. Kamp, ‘The Bishops of Southern Italy in the Norman and Staufen Periods’, Loud and Metcalfe (eds.), Society

of Norman Italy, pp. 185–209.   33 .

Loud, Norman Church in Italy, p. 367.

  34 .

Loud, Norman Church in Italy, p. 398.

  35 .

S. Wood, The Proprietary Church in the Medieval West (Oxford, 2006), pp. 393–408, 851–904; Loud, Norman

Church in Italy, pp. 410–29.   36 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum; History of Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 10–11; Hugh the Chanter,

History of the Church of York, p. 4.   37 .

Bates, Regesta, nos. 66, 69, 70, 72, 73, 76, 79.

  38 .

Domesday Monachorum, ed. D. C. Douglas (Oxford, 1944).

  39 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 12–13; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 12–14; Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, pp. 162–7, 177–82.   40 .

Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, pp. 186–8.

  41 .

The Life of Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, ed. R. Thomson (Toronto, 1977); R. A. L. Smith, ‘The Place of Gundulf

in

the

Anglo-Norman

Church’,

English

Historical Review, lviii (1943), 257–72; M. Brett, ‘Gundulf (1023/1024–1108)’, ODNB.

  42 .

Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, pp. 140–50.

  43 .

Gibson, Lanfranc of Bec, p. 142.

  44 .

F. Delivré, ‘L’Ombre de Lanfranc. L’Espace canonique anglo-normand (XIe-XIIe siècle)’, J. Barrow, F. Delivré and V. Gazeau (eds.), Autour de Lanfranc (1010–2010) (Caen, 2015), pp. 85–106.

  45 .

The

Monastic

Constitutions

of

Lanfranc.

The

Instruction of Novices, trans. D. Knowles (London, 1951).   46 .

Hugh the Chanter, History of the Church of York, p. 4.

  47 .

Hugh the Chanter, History of the Church of York, pp. 118–20.

  48 .

J. Blair, The Church in Anglo-Saxon Society (Oxford, 2005), chapters 7 and 8; Brett, English Church under

Henry I, chapter 7; Wood, Proprietary Church in the Medieval West, part III; J. Barrow, The Clergy in the Medieval West: Secular Clerics, their Families and Careers

in

North-Western

(Cambridge, 2015), chapter 10.

Europe,

c.800–c.1200

  49 .

Davies, Age of Conquest, pp. 172–210.

  50 .

Liber Eliensis, ed. E. O. Blake, Camden Society, 3rd series, xcii (1962), p. 245; Liber Eliensis, trans. J. Fairweather (Woodbridge, 2005), p. 296.

  51 .

Davies, Age of Conquest, pp. 188–91.

  52 .

AA,

pp.

338–9;

Willelmi

Tyrensis

Archiepiscopi

Chronicon (ed. Huygens), 6, 23, p. 340; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), i, 296–7.   53 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 156.

  54 .

Willelmi

Tyrensis

Archiepiscopi

Chronicon

(ed.

Huygens), 6, 23, p. 340; William of Tyre, A History of

Deeds Done beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), i, 514, 296–7.   55 .

Hamilton, Latin Church in the Crusader States, pp. 21– 30.

  56 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 164.

  57 .

AA, pp. 702–4.

  58 .

Walter the Chancellor, I, i, pp. 80–4.

  59 .

Asbridge, Principality of Antioch, p. 203.

  60 .

Walter the Chancellor, I, iv–v, pp. 96–100.

  61 .

Walter the Chancellor, II, viii, pp. 136–40; OV, vi, 108.

  62 .

Walter the Chancellor, II, xvi, 10; XII, 20.

  63 .

Willelmi

Tyrensis

Archiepiscopi

Chronicon

(ed.

Huygens), 18, 1, pp. 809–10; William of Tyre, A History

of Deeds Done beyond the Sea (trans. Babcock and Krey), ii, 235–6.   64 .

Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, chapter 8.

  65 .

Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, pp. 496–512.

  66 .

E. Tounta, ‘Saints, Rulers and Communities in Southern Italy: the Vitae of the Italo-Greek Saints (tenth to eleventh centuries) and Their Audiences’, Journal of

Medieval History, xlii (2016), 429–55; P. Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage in Medieval Southern Italy, 1000–1200 (Cambridge, 2014), pp. 107–38.

  67 .

Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, pp. 484–5.

  68 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, pp. 85–8.

  69 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, pp. 88–90.

  70 .

Loud, Norman Church in Italy, pp. 485–93.

  71 .

J. Burton, Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain,

1000–1300 (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 21–9; F. Barlow, The English Church 1066–1154 (London, 1979), pp. 177– 216.   72 .

For Rochester see R. A. L. Smith, ‘The Place of Gundulf in

the

Anglo-Norman

Church’,

English

Historical

Review, lviii (1943), 257–62; for Durham see W. M. Aird, St Cuthbert and the Normans. The Church of

Durham, 1071–1153 (Woodbridge, 1998), chapter 3, pp. 100–41.   73 .

C. Harper-Bill, ‘Losinga, Herbert de (d. 1119)’, ODNB.

  74 .

Letters of Lanfranc, no.27, pp. 110–12.

  75 .

F. Ramsey, ‘Tours, John of [John de Villula]’, ODNB.

  76 .

WM, Gesta Pontificum Anglorum, p. 272.

  77 .

Monastic Constitutions of Lanfranc; Cowdrey, Lanfranc: Scholar, Monk, and Archbishop (Oxford, 2003), pp. 154–60.

  78 .

Matthew,

Norman

Monasteries

and

their

English

Possessions, chapter 1.   79 .

J. Burton, The Monastic Order in Yorkshire 1069–1215 (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 45–68.

  80 .

Burton, Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain,

1000–1300, chapters 3, 4; Monastic Order in Yorkshire, chapters 3, 4.   81 .

Davies, Age of Conquest, pp. 194–202.

  82 .

Cahen, Syrie du Nord, part IV, chapter 3.

  83 .

R. Bartlett, Why Can the Dead do such Great Things?

Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation (Princeton, 2013); B. Ward, Miracles and the Medieval Mind: Theory, Record and Event 1000– 1215 (London, 1982).

  84 .

M. Rubin, Mother of God: A History of the Virgin Mary (London, 2009).

  85 .

R. A. Fletcher, St James’s Catapult: The Life and Times

of Diego Gelmírez of Santiago de Compostela (Oxford, 1984); D. Webb, Medieval European Pilgrimage c.700–

c.1500 (Houndmills, 2002).   86 .

C. Walsh, The Cult of St. Katherine of Alexandria in

Early Medieval Europe (Aldershot, Burlington, VT, 2007).   87 .

Birch, Pilgrimage to Rome in the Middle Ages.

  88 .

J. C. Arnold, The Footprints of Michael the Archangel:

The Formation and Diffusion of a Saintly Cult, c.300– c.800 (Basingstoke, 2013).   89 .

V. Gazeau, C. Guyon and C. Vincent (eds.), En Orient et

en Occident, le culte de Saint Nicolas en Europe (X– XXIe siècle): Actes du colloque de Lunéville et SaintNicolas-de-Port, 5–7 décembre 2013 (Paris, 2015).   90 .

J. Riley-Smith, Crusades: A History reprint (London, 2014), chapter 4, pp. 71–100.

  91 .

The monks of Fleury-sur-Loire claimed that they had obtained the relics of St Benedict during the seventh century, a claim rejected by Montecassino. For the discovery

of

relics

at

Monte

cassino,

Chronica

Monasterii Casinensis (ed. Hoffman), III. 26, p. 95. Abbot Desiderius added to the saint’s miracles, and the cult

became

ever

more

securely

centred

on

Montecassino.   92 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, pp. 25–6.

  93 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, pp. 61–4.

  94 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, p. 56.

  95 .

Oldfield, Sanctity and Pilgrimage, pp. 56–7.

  96 .

Tounta, ‘Saints, Rulers and Communities in Southern Italy’,

429–55;

V.

Von

Falkenhausen,

‘Greek

Monasticism in Campania and Latium from the Tenth to the Fifteenth Centuries’, B. Crostini and I. M. Murzaku (eds.), Greek Monasticism in Southern Italy: The Life of

Neilos in Context, pp. 78–95.   97 .

Oldfield, ‘The Medieval Cult of St Agatha of Catania and the Consolidation of Christian Sicily’.

  98 .

M. Clayton, The Cult of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon

England (Cambridge, 1990). For a general overview see P. Hayward, ‘Saints and Cults’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.), Social History of England, pp. 309–20.   99 .

Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 456–8.

100 .

For a review see J. Rubinstein, ‘Liturgy against History: The Competing Visions of Lanfranc and Eadmer of Canterbury’, Speculum, lxxiv (1999), 279–309.

101 .

S.

Ridyard,

‘Condigna

Veneratio:

Post-Conquest

Attitudes to the Saints of the Anglo-Saxons’, Anglo-

Norman Studies, ix (1986), 179–206; Royal Saints of Anglo-Saxon England. 102 .

T. A. Heslop, ‘The Canterbury Calendars and the Norman Conquest’, R. Eales and R. Sharpe (eds.),

Canterbury and the Norman Conquest: Churches, Saints, and Scholars (London and Rio Grande, 1995), pp. 53–85. 103 .

A. Wilmart, Eadmer, ‘De Reliquiis Sancti Audoeni et quorundam aliorum sanctorum quae Cantuariae in aecclesia Domini Salvatoris habentur’, Revue

sciences religieuses, xv (1935), 362–70.

des

104 .

P. A. Hayward, ‘Gregory the Great as “Apostle of the English” in post-Conquest Canterbury’, Journal of

Ecclesiastical History, lv (2004), 19–57. 105 .

R. Sharpe, ‘The Setting of St Augustine’s Translation’, Eales and Sharpe (eds.), Canterbury and the Norman

Conquest, pp. 1–13. 106 .

T. Licence (ed.), Bury St Edmunds and the Norman

Conquest (Woodbridge, 2014). 107 .

The Cult of St Swithun, ed. and trans. M. Lapidge, Winchester

Studies,

iv,

ii

(Oxford,

2003),

630–9;

Hayward, ‘Saints and Cults’, p. 314. 108 .

P.

A.

Hayward,

‘The

Miracula

Inventionis

Beate

Mylburge attributed to “the Lord Ato, Cardinal Bishop of Ostia”’, English Historical Review, cxiv (1999), 543– 73. 109 .

Aird, St Cuthbert and the Normans, chapter 3. For the translation of the relics, see Capitula de miraculis et

translationibus sancti Cuthberti, Symeon of Durham, Opera omnia, i, 247–61. 110 .

Chronicon Abbatiae de Evesham, pp. 323–4.

111 .

P. A. Hayward, ‘Translation Narratives in Post-Conquest Hagiography and English Resistance to the Norman Conquest’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxi (1999), 67–93, at 69–70.

112 .

Burton, Monastic and Religious Orders, pp. 69–77.

113 .

J. Burton and K. Stöber (eds.), The Regular Canons in

the Medieval British Isles (Turnhout, 2011). 114 .

G. B. Ratcliff, ‘Scottish Augustinians: A Study of the Regular Canonical Movement in the Kingdom of Scotland, c. 1120–1215’,

unpublished

PhD

thesis,

University of Edinburgh (2013). Chapter 9  Encounters     1 .

C. Clark, ‘Women’s Names in post-Conquest England: Observations and Speculations’, Speculum, liii (1978), 223–51.

    2 .

L. Reilly, The Invention of Norman Visual Culture: Art,

Politics and Dynastic Ambition (Cambridge, 2020), pp. 4–6; H. Houben, ‘Between Occidental and Oriental Cultures: Norman Sicily as a “Third Place”’, Burckhardt and

Foerster

(eds.),

Norman

Transcultural Heritage, pp. 19–33.

Tradition

and

    3 .

Green, Aristocracy of Norman England, pp. 348–51.

    4 .

P. Skinner, ‘Women, Wills and Wealth in Medieval Southern Italy,’ Early Medieval Europe, ii (1993), 133– 52;

C.

Rognoni,

‘Pratique

juridique

grecque

et

économie dans la Calabre post-byzantine (XIIe-XIIIe siècle)’,

Cahiers

de

Recherches

Médiévales

et

Humanistes, xxviii (2014), 409–30.     5 .

P. Skinner, Medieval Amalfi, pp. 174–6.

    6 .

P. Skinner, Women in Medieval Italian Society 500–1200 (Harlow, 2001), pp. 160–1.

    7 .

Assizes of Ariano, cap. xxvii, Roger II and the Creation

of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 322–3, 319.     8 .

Assizes of Ariano, cap. xv, Roger II and the Creation of

the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud) p. 319.     9 .

Amatus, pp. 89–90.

  10 .

Amatus, p. 117.

  11 .

WAp., p. 25.

  12 .

WAp., p. 26.

  13 .

Amatus, p. 80.

  14 .

C. Heygate, ‘Marriage Strategies among the Normans of Southern Italy in the Eleventh Century’, Norman

Expansion (ed. Stringer), pp. 165–83.   15 .

One high-profile example is provided by the marriages of the two sisters of Robert de Grandmesnil, OV, ii, 102; Heygate, ‘Marriage Strategies’, p. 172.

  16 .

Heygate, ‘Marriage Strategies’, pp. 182–3.

  17 .

E. Van Houts, ‘Intermarriage in Eleventh-Century England’, Crouch and Thompson (eds.), Normandy and

its Neighbours, pp. 237–70.   18 .

Stafford, ‘Women and the Norman Conquest’, pp. 221– 6.

  19 .

It is argued that the social relationships encapsulated in Anglo-Saxon wills were radically disrupted by the tenurial revolution after 1066, and only as interest in Roman law revived in the twelfth century did the practice of making wills revive: L. Tollerton, Wills and

Will-Making in Anglo-Saxon England (Woodbridge, 2012), pp. 279–84.   20 .

A. L. Klinck, ‘To Have and to Hold: The Bridewealth of Wives and the Mund of Widows in Anglo-Saxon England’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, li (2007), 231– 45.

  21 .

Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II,

871–1216, p. 125.   22 .

In much of Normandy the custom of parage, whereby sons shared the inheritance with the eldest doing homage for the whole was established, except in the Pays de Caux, where male primogeniture developed: R. Génestal, ‘La Formation du droit d’aînesse dans le coutume de Normandie’, Normannia, i (1928), 157–79; J. Yver,

‘Les

caractères

originaux

du

groupe

de

coutumes de l’ouest de la France’, Revue historique de

droit français et étranger, 4th series, xxx (1952), 18–79; J. C. Holt, ‘Politics and Property in Early Medieval England’, Past and Present, no. 57 (1972), 3–52, reprinted in Colonial England 1066–1215.   23 .

Stubbs, Select Charters, p. 118.

  24 .

Holt, ‘The Heiress and the Alien’. For comment see Green, Aristocracy of Norman England, pp. 378–82.

  25 .

Clark, ‘Women’s Names’, 237–51.

  26 .

OV, vi, 552; Van Houts, ‘Orderic and his Father, Odelerius’, Rozier, Gasper, Roach and Van Houts (eds.),

Orderic Vitalis, pp. 27–8.   27 .

The Life of Christina of Markyate, trans. C. H. Talbot, rev. edn (Oxford, 2008), p. 7. Huntingdon was on Ermine Street, the Roman Road.

  28 .

OV, vi, 532–3.

  29 .

J. Thibodeaux, The Manly Priest: Clerical Celibacy,

Masculinity, and Reform in England and Normandy, 1066– 1300 (Philadelphia, 2015).   30 .

Letters of Lanfranc, no. 53, pp. 166–7.

  31 .

Edith is thought to have been born in 1080 as her godfather was Robert Curthose, who is known to have visited Scotland in that year. If so, she must have been sent south as a young child. Her aunt became a nun at Romsey in 1086, ASC E, 1086; JW, iii, 44. It is not clear

why Christina entered the house there rather than at Wilton, a house notable for royal ladies, including Edward the Confessor’s widow. Edith was at Wilton when her father visited in 1092 to find her wearing a veil which he snatched from her head, and Eadmer referred to her as having been brought up there:

Historia Novorum, p. 122 (trans. Bosanquet, p. 128). It appears from a letter of Archbishop Anselm that she was living in Salisbury diocese (and therefore, it is believed at Wilton, the premier house for women in that diocese) until 1100. Wilton was less than four miles from Salisbury, whose bishop was Osmund. The bishop is known to have had Prince Henry in his household in 1084. Perhaps he met Matilda through the bishop. Little is known of Henry’s movements between 1096 and 1099. In 1100 she claimed her freedom to marry King

Henry,

and

after

an

investigation

Anselm

performed the ceremony: Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 121–5; History of Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 126–31.   32 .

R. Sharpe, ‘King Harold’s Daughter’, Haskins Society

Journal, xix (2007), 1–27.   33 .

OV, ii, 202.

  34 .

OV, ii, 268.

  35 .

WP, p. 158.

  36 .

H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘Bishop Ermenfrid of Sion and the Penitential Ordinance Following the Battle of Hastings’,

Journal of Ecclesiastical History, xx (1969), 225–42, cap. 12, 242.   37 .

ASC E, 1086.

  38 .

Fulcher of Chartres, p. 271.

  39 .

N. Hodgson, ‘Conflict and Cohabitation: Marriage and Diplomacy between Latins and Cilician Armenians,

c.1097–1253’, C. Kostick (ed.), The Crusades and the Near East: Cultural Histories (London, 2011), pp. 83– 106.   40 .

B. Z. Kedar, ‘On the Origins of the Earliest Laws of Frankish Jerusalem: The Canons of the Council of Nablus, 1120’, Speculum, lxxiv (1999), 310–35, at 323– 4.

  41 .

M. Haber, C. Doumet-Serhal, C. L. Scheib, Y. Xue, R. Mikulski,

R.

Martiniano,

B.

Fischer-Genz,

H.

Schutkowski, T. Kivisild and C. Tyler-Smith, ‘A Transient Pulse of Genetic Admixture from the Crusaders in the

Near East Identified from Ancient Genome Sequences’,

The American Journal of Human Genetics, civ (2 May 2019), 977–84.   42 .

Hillenbrand, Crusades, Islamic Perspectives, pp. 297–8.

  43 .

Kedar, ‘On the Origins of the Earliest Laws of Frankish Jerusalem’, 314–15.

  44 .

Nablus, cap. 15, Kedar, ‘On the Origins of the Earliest Laws of Frankish Jerusalem’, 319.

  45 .

Edbury, ‘Assises d’Antioche: Law and Custom in the Principality of Antioch’.

  46 .

Edbury, ‘Assises d’Antioche’, p. 248. This may indeed have been a Norman importation, but although known in England, it is not certain that it was known in Normandy.

  47 .

Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II, 451.

  48 .

D. Abulafia, ‘The Italian Other: Greeks, Muslims and Jews’, D. Abulafia (ed.), Italy in the Central Middle Ages

1100–1300 (Oxford, 2004), pp. 215–36.

  49 .

Morris, Papal Monarchy: the Western Church from

1050 to 1250, pp. 134–53; Shepard, Byzantium and the Crusades, pp. 46–58.   50 .

Shepard, Byzantium and the Crusades, pp. 59–76. Whalen, ‘God’s Will or Not? Bohemond’s Campaign against the Byzantine Empire’; Léan Ní Chléirigh, ‘The Impact of the First Crusade on Western Opinion towards the Byzantine Empire: the Dei Gesta per

Francos

of

Guibert

of

Nogent

and

the

Historia

Hierosolymitana of Fulcher of Chartres’, in Kostick (ed.), The Crusades and the Near East, pp. 161–88.   51 .

J. H. Forse, ‘Armenians and the First Crusade’, Journal

of Medieval History, xvii (1991), 13–22.   52 .

Hodgson, ‘Conflict and Cohabitation: Marriage and Diplomacy between Latins and Cilician Armenians, c. 1097–1253’.

  53 .

R. Chazan, ‘“Let not a Remnant or a Residue Escape”: Millenarian

Enthusiasm

in

the

First

Crusade’,

Speculum, lxxxiv (2009), 289–313. R. Chazan, European Jewry and the First Crusade (Berkeley, 1987). For an overview see R. Chazan, Re-assessing Jewish Life in

Medieval

Europe

(Cambridge,

2010);

D.

Malkiel,

‘Jewish-Christian

Relations

in

Europe,

840–1096’,

Journal of Medieval History, xxix (2003), 55–83.   54 .

N. Golb, The Jews in Medieval Normandy: a Social and

Intellectual History (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 118–35.   55 .

A. Sapir Abulafia, ‘The Jews’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.), Social History of England, pp. 256–64; Brooke and Keir, London 800–1216: the Shaping of a City, pp. 222–7; R. Mundill, ‘Out of the Shadow and into the Light

–

the

Impact

and

Implications

of

Recent

Scholarship on the Jews of Medieval England’, History

Compass, ix (2011), 572–601.   56 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 100–2; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 103–5.   57 .

Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, p. 562.

  58 .

Guibert of Nogent, Self and Society in Medieval France.

The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent, ed. J. F. Benton, trans. C. C. Swinton Bland, rev. J. F. Benton (New York, 1970), book II, chapter 5, pp. 134–5.   59 .

Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, p. 117; the farm in 1130 was over £526, Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, p. 113.

  60 .

Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, p. 115.

  61 .

Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, p. 116 (Osbert of Leicester, Richard FitzGilbert), p. 117 (Ranulf Earl of Chester).

  62 .

D. Crouch, The Beaumont Twins. The Roots and

Branches of Power in the Twelfth Century (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 148–9.   63 .

Abulafia, ‘The Jews’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.) Social

History of England, p. 257.   64 .

The Works of Gilbert Crispin, Abbot of Westminster, eds. A. Sapir Abulafia and G. R. Evans (Oxford, 1986), pp. 1–53 and continuation, pp. 54–61; Southern, St

Anselm, pp. 198–202.   65 .

V. Von Falkenhausen, ‘The Jews in Byzantine Southern Italy’, in R. Bonfil, D. Irshai, G. G. Stroumsa and R. Talgam (eds.), Dialectics of Minority and Majority

Cultures

(Leiden,

Boston,

2012),

pp.

79–95;

G.

Mandala, ‘The Jews of Palermo from Late Antiquity to the

Expulsion

(598–1492–93)’,

A.

Nef

(ed.),

A

Companion to Medieval Palermo. The History of a Mediterranean City from 600 to 1500 (Leiden, Boston 2013), pp. 437–85.

  66 .

1086 Sichelgaita, widow of Robert Guiscard, gave the Jews of Bari to Archbishop Urso, Codice Diplomatico

Barese, I–II, eds. G. B. Nitto de Rossi and F. Nitti de Vito (Bari, 1897–9), no. 30, as cited in P. Skinner, Family

Power in Southern Italy: The Duchy of Gaeta and Its Neighbours, 850–1139 (Cambridge, 1995), p. 285; Loud, Latin Church in Norman Italy, pp. 512–13.   67 .

Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela (trans. Adler), pp. 15– 34.

  68 .

E. Lapina, ‘Anti-Jewish Rhetoric in Guibert of Nogent’s

Dei Gesta per Francos’, Journal of Medieval History, xxxv (2009), 239–53; S. F. Kruger, ‘Medieval Christian (Dis)Identifications: Muslims and Jews in Guibert of Nogent’, New Literary History, xxviii (1997), 185–203; D. C. Munro, ‘The Western Attitude toward Islam during the Period of the Crusades’, Speculum, vi (1931), 329–43.   69 .

Eadmer, Life of Anselm, pp. 111–12.

  70 .

Malaterra, p. 125.

  71 .

At Judica, Malaterra, p. 140.

  72 .

For the surrender of Palermo see Malaterra, p. 125; Metcalfe, Muslims of Medieval Italy, pp. 107–8.

  73 .

J. Johns, Arabic Administration in Norman Sicily: The

Royal Dīwān (Cambridge, 2002).   74 .

Life of Anselm, pp. 111–12.

  75 .

Malaterra, pp. 180–2.

  76 .

Gesta Francorum, pp. 44–7; see R. L. Slitt, ‘Justifying Cross-Cultural Friendship: Bohemond, Firuz, and the Fall of Antioch’, Viator, xxxviii (2007), 339–49; J. C. Birk, ‘The Betrayal of Antioch: Narratives of Conversion and Conquest during the First Crusade’, Journal of

Medieval and Modern Studies, xli (2011), 463–81.   77 .

See especially Chazan, ‘“Let Not a Remnant Survive”.

  78 .

Robert the Monk, p. 79.

  79 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 21.

  80 .

Gesta Francorum, p. 32.

  81 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 144.

  82 .

Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, pp. 32–8; S. Kangas, ‘Inimicus Dei et Sanctae Christianitatis? Saracens and Their Prophet in Twelfth-Century Crusade Propaganda and Western Travesties of Muhammad’s Life’, Kostick (ed.), Crusades and the Near East, pp. 131–60.

  83 .

For the attitudes of ninth- and tenth-century south Italian chroniclers to Muslims, see L. Russo, ‘The Muslims as Others in the Chronicles of Early Medieval Italy’, Viator, xlv (2014), 1–24; K. Yamboliev, ‘Italian Narratives of Oppositional Identity: Hagiography and Affect in Distancing the Late Antique and Medieval Saracen and the Modern Migrant’, Studies in Late

Antiquity, iii (2019), 77–113.   84 .

R. I. Moore, The Formation of a Persecuting Society:

Power and Deviance in Western Europe, 950–1150, 2nd edn (Oxford, 2007); J. H. Arnold, ‘Persecution and Power

in

Medieval

Europe’,

American

Historical

Review, cxxiii (2018), 165–74.   85 .

A. Metcalfe, Muslims and Christians in Norman Sicily:

Arabic Speakers and the End of Islam (London, 2003), pp. 107–8.

  86 .

Metcalfe, Muslims and Christians, pp. 122–80; J. C. Birk, Norman Kings of Sicily and the Rise of Anti-

Islamic Critique. Baptized Sultans (Cham, Switzerland, 2020).   87 .

For the views of J. Prawer, see, for instance, Crusader

Institutions

(Oxford,

1980);

for

historiographical

context see R. Ellenblum, Crusader Castles and Modern

Histories (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 43–61.   88 .

R. Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement in the Latin

Kingdom of Jerusalem (Cambridge, 1998).   89 .

B. Z. Kedar, ‘The Subjected Muslims of the Frankish Levant’, J. M. Powell (ed.), Muslims under Latin Rule,

1100–1300 (Princeton, 1990), pp. 135–74; A. Jotischky, ‘Ethnographic Attitudes in the Crusader States: The Franks

and

the

Indigenous

Orthodox

People’,

K.

Ciggaar and H. Teule (eds.), East and West in the

Crusader States, III (Leuven, 2003), pp. 1–19.   90 .

Buck, Principality of Antioch, pp. 164–88; Asbridge, ‘The “Crusader” Community at Antioch: The Impact of Interaction with Byzantium and Islam’.

  91 .

C. Beattie and K. A. Fenton (eds.), Intersections of

Gender, Religion and Ethnicity in the Middle Ages (Basingstoke, 2013), Introduction, pp. 1–11; S. Farmer and C. Braun Pasternak (eds.), Gender and Difference

in the Middle Ages (Minneapolis, 2003).   92 .

OV, v, 356–78; Yarrow, ‘Prince Bohemond, Princess Melaz, and the Gendering of Religious Difference in the

Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis’.   93 .

ASC E 1083; JW, iii, 38–41 where it is claimed that the monks were ordered to use the chant of William of Fécamp, presumably William of Volpiano; OV, ii, 271; WM, GP, i, 308–10.

  94 .

D.

Hiley,

‘Thurstan

of

Caen

and

Plainchant

at

Glastonbury: Musicological Reflections on the Norman Conquest’, Proceedings of the British Academy, lxxii (1986), 57–90, at 84.   95 .

Hiley, ‘Thurstan of Caen’, 86–8.

  96 .

Hiley, ‘Thurstan of Caen’, 88; D. Hiley, ‘Quanto c’è di Normanno

nei

tropari

siculo-normanni?’,

Rivista

Italiana di Musicologica, xviii (1983), 3–28; D. Hiley, ‘The

Norman

Chant

Traditions-Normandy,

Britain,

Sicily’, Proceedings of the Royal Musical Association, cvii (1980–1), 1–33.   97 .

Chronica Monasterii Casinensis (ed. Hoffman), II, 94; T. Forrest Kelly, ‘Montecassino and the Old Beneventan Chant’, Early Music History, v (1985), 53–83, especially at 80–3.

  98 .

L. Nardini, Interlacing Traditions: Neo-Gregorian Chant

Propers

in

Beneventan

Manuscripts,

Monumenta

Liturgica Beneventana, viii (Toronto, 2016).   99 .

Hiley, ‘Norman Chant Traditions: Normandy, Britain, Sicily’.

100 .

Hiley, ‘Norman Chant Traditions: Normandy, Britain, Sicily’, 9.

101 .

C. Dondi, The Liturgy of the Canons Regular of the Holy

Sepulchre of Jerusalem (Turnhout, 2004). 102 .

I. Short, ‘Language and Literature’, Harper-Bill and Van Houts (eds.), Companion to the Anglo-Norman World, pp. 191–213.

103 .

Falcandus, p. 58 as cited in G. Loud,

‘Norman

Traditions in Southern Italy’, Burkhardt and Foerster

(eds.), Norman Traditions and Transcultural Heritage, pp. 35–56 at p. 35. 104 .

I.

Short,

‘On

Bilingualism

in

Norman

England’,

Romance Philology, xxxiii (1980), 467–79; C. Clark, ‘People and Languages in post-Conquest Canterbury’,

Journal of Medieval History, ii (1976), 1–33; M. D. Legge,

‘Anglo-Norman

as

a

Spoken

Language’,

Proceedings of the Battle Conference, ii (1979), 108– 17, 188–90. 105 .

OV, ii, 256. This passage was probably based on the lost concluding paragraph of William of Poitiers’s Gesta

Guillelmi. The latter may in turn have been drawing on Einhard’s description of Charlemagne’s efforts to learn languages, Einhard and Notker the Stammerer. Two

Lives

of

Charlemagne,

(Harmondsworth,

1969),

p.

trans. 79.

L.

The

Thorpe

question

of

translation is discussed by W. M. Aird, ‘Interpreting the King’s

Will:

Interpreters

Multilingualism in

Eleventh-

and and

the

Role

of

Twelfth-Century

England’, forthcoming. 106 .

John of Forde, The Life of Wulfric of Haselbury, trans. P. Matarasso (Collegeville, MN, 2011), p. 115.

107 .

H. Tsurushima, ‘Domesday Interpreters’, Anglo-Norman

Studies, xviii (1995), 201–22. 108 .

A. V. Murray, ‘National Identity, Language and Conflict in the Crusades to the Holy Land, 1096–1192’, Kostick (ed.), Crusades and the Near East, pp. 107–30.

109 .

Fulcher of Chartres, p. 271.

110 .

W. S. Murrell, ‘Dragomans and Crusaders: the Role of Translators and Translation in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean,

1098–1291’,

PhD

thesis

Nashville,

Tennessee (2018). 111 .

AA, p. 230.

112 .

AA, p. 274.

113 .

AA, pp. 316–8.

114 .

AC, p. 418.

115 .

S. Crane, ‘Anglo-Norman Cultures in England, 1066– 1460’, D. Wallace (ed.), Cambridge History of Medieval

English Literature (Cambridge, 2008), pp. 35–60 at p. 47.

116 .

La Vie d’Édouard le Confesseur, ed. O. Södergard (Uppsala, 1948), vv. 7–10 as cited in Short, ‘On Bilingualism’, p. 473.

117 .

Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium. Courtiers’ Trifles, ed. and trans. M. R. James, revised edn by C. N. L. Brooke and R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford, 1983), p. 496.

118 .

Gervase of Tilbury, Otia Imperialia: Recreation for an

Emperor, eds. and trans. S E. Banks and J. W. Binns (Oxford, 2002), p. 474. 119 .

A. Varvaro, ‘Language in Italy c.1000’, Abulafia (ed.),

Italy in the Central Middle Ages, pp. 197–8. 120 .

J. Becker, ‘Charters and Chancery under Roger I and Roger II’, Burkhardt and Foerster (eds.), Norman

Tradition and Transcultural Heritage, pp. 79–96. 121 .

‘The Assizes (or Constitutions) of King Roger’ and ‘The Catalogue of the Barons’, Roger II and the Creation of

the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 314–28, 329– 54. 122 .

Johns, Administration, pp. 280–3.

123 .

K. Mallette, The Kingdom of Sicily, 1100–1250: A

Literary History (Philadelphia, 2005); K. Mallette, ‘Translating Sicily’, Encounters, ix (2003), 140–63; W. Granara, Narrating Muslim Sicily, War and Peace in the

Medieval World (London, New York, 2019). 124 .

Nef, ‘Dire la conquête et la souverainté des Hauteville en arabe (jusqu’au milieu du XIIIe siècle)’.

125 .

‘The Book of Roger’ by Abû ‘Abdallâh al-Idrîsî, Roger II

and the Creation of the Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 355–63. 126 .

E. N. Boeck, ‘The Politics of Visualizing an Imperial Demise: Transforming a Byzantine Chronicle into a Sicilian Visual Narrative’, Word and Image, xxv (2009), 243–57.

127 .

Mallette, ‘Translating Sicily’, p. 151.

128 .

M. T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record.

England 1066–1307, 3rd edn (Oxford, 2013), pp. 30–8. 129 .

R.

Gameson,

The

Manuscripts

of

England (c.1066–1130) (Oxford, 1999).

Early

Norman

130 .

T. Webber, ‘Textual communities (Latin)’, Crick and Van Houts (eds.), Social History of England, pp. 330–40; E. Treharne, ‘Textual Communities (Vernacular)’, Crick and Van Houts, Social History of England (eds.), pp. 341–51; S. Baxter, ‘The Making of Domesday Book and the Languages of Lordship in Conquered England’, E. M. Tyler (ed.), Conceptualizing Multilingualism in

England, c.800–c.1250 (Turnhout, 2011), pp. 271–308. 131 .

E. Treharne, Living through Conquest: The Politics of

Early English, 1020–1220 (Oxford, 2012). 132 .

C. Karkov,

‘The

Scribe

Looks

Back:

Anglo-Saxon

England and the Eadwine Psalter’, Brett and Woodman (eds.), Long Twelfth-Century View of the Anglo-Saxon

Past, pp. 289–306; M. T. Gibson, T. A. Heslop and R. W. Pfaff (eds.), The Eadwine Psalter: Text, Image, and

Monastic

Culture

in

Twelfth-Century

Canterbury

(London, 1992); G. Zarnecki, J. Allen and T. Holland (eds.), English Romanesque Art, 1066–1200: Hayward

Gallery, London, 5 April–8 July 1984 (London, 1984), p. 119; Treharne, Living Through Conquest, pp. 167–87. 133 .

Clark,

‘People

Canterbury’, 26.

and

Languages

in

post-Conquest

134 .

I. Short, ‘Patrons and Polyglots: French Literature in Twelfth-Century England’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xiv (1991), 229–249, at 242.

135 .

Short, ‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 242.

136 .

The classic survey is by M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman

Literature and Its Background (Oxford, 1963), p. 364; see also M. D. Legge, ‘La précocité de la littérature anglo-normande’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, viii (1965), 327–49. 137 .

‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 244.

138 .

‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 229.

139 .

Jordan Fantosme’s Chronicle, ed. and trans. R. C. Johnston (Oxford, 1981).

140 .

Philippe de Thaon, Comput, ed. I. Short, Anglo-Norman Text Society (London, 1984).

141 .

For the French translation of the psalms in the Eadwine psalter, see above, and for other examples, Short, ‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 233.

142 .

The Hospitallers’ “Riwle”, ed. K. V. Sinclair, AngloNorman Text Society, xlii (1984).

143 .

Beneit, The Anglo-Norman Voyage of St Brendan, eds. I. Short and B. Merrilees (Manchester, 1979).

144 .

Geffrei Gaimar, Estoire des Engleis, line 5056 and for comment see pp. 432–3.

145 .

The Life of St Catherine by Clemence of Barking, ed. W. MacBain, Anglo-Norman Text Society, xviii (Oxford, 1964); Virgin Lives and Holy Deaths: Two Exemplary

Biographies for Anglo-Norman Women: the Life of St Catherine and the Life of St Lawrence, trans. J. WoganBrowne and G. S. Burgess (London, 1996). 146 .

Philippe de Thaon, Bestiaire, ed. E. Walberg (Lund, 1900).

147 .

La Vie de Saint Alexis, ed. C. Storey (Geneva and Paris, 1968). For other examples see Short, ‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 235.

148 .

M. D. Legge, Anglo-Norman in the Cloisters: The

Influence of the Orders upon Anglo-Norman Literature (Edinburgh, 1950).

149 .

Short, ‘Patrons and Polyglots’, 244.

150 .

J. J. T. Yolles, ‘Latin Literature and Frankish Culture in the

Crusader

States

(1098–1187)’,

unpublished

Harvard PhD thesis, 2015. 151 .

L. Minervini, ‘What We Know and What We Don’t Yet Know about Outremer French’, L. Morreale and N. L. Paul (eds.), The French of Outremer: Communities and

Communications in the Crusading Mediterranean (New York, 2019), pp. 1–12. 152 .

Asbridge, ‘The “Crusader” Community at Antioch: The Impact of Interaction with Byzantium and Islam’.

153 .

But see ‘Antioch as a Link between Arabic and Latin Culture in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’, C. Burnett, Arabic into Latin in the Middle Ages (Farnham, 2009), IV, pp. 1–78.

154 .

Skinner,

‘Women,

Wills

and

Wealth

in

Medieval

Southern Italy’, 133–4. 155 .

J. Morton, ‘A Byzantine Canon Law Scholar in Norman Sicily: Revisiting Neilos Doxpatres’s Order of the

Patriarchal Thrones’, Speculum, xcii (2017), 724–54.

156 .

Malaterra, p. 125.

157 .

P. Oldfield, ‘The Bari Charter of Privileges of 1132: Articulating the Culture of a New Norman Monarchy’,

Historical Research, lxxxviii (2015), pp. 577–98. 158 .

Le Assise di Ariano, ed. O. Zecchino (Ariano Irpino, 1994), translation in Roger II and the Creation of the

Kingdom of Sicily (trans. Loud), pp. 314–28 and pp. 42– 3 for an introduction. 159 .

Hudson, Oxford History of the Laws of England, II, 250–6.

160 .

In his charter to the Londoners, William restored to the laws of which they were worthy in King Edward’s day, Bates, Regesta, no. 180.

161 .

P. Wormald, The Making of English Law: King Alfred to

the Twelfth Century, I, Legislation and Its Limits (Oxford, 1999), p. 403. 162 .

Textus Roffensis: Rochester Cathedral Manuscript A. 3. 5, ed. P. H. Sawyer, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1957, 1962); B. O’Brien and B. Bombi (eds.), Textus Roffensis: Law,

Language and Liberties in Early Medieval England (Turnhout, 2015). 163 .

For the text of the Quadripartitus, Die Gesetze der

Angelsachsen, ed. F. Liebermann, 3 vols (Halle, 1903– 16), I, 529–46; Wormald, Making of English Law, pp. 236–44; R. Sharpe, ‘The Prefaces of “Quadripartitus”’, Garnett and Hudson (eds.), Law and Government in

Medieval England and Normandy, pp. 148–72. For a recent discussion of Quadripartitus, see S. J. Lemanski, ‘A Loose Canon: the Quadripartitus, Rectitudines, and the Creation of English Law’, Nottingham Medieval

Studies, lx (2016), 59–92; R. Sharpe, ‘The Dating of Quadripartitus Again’, S. Jurasinski, L. Oliver and A. Rabin (eds.), English Law before Magna Carta: Felix

Liebermann

and

‘Die

Gesetze

der

Angelsachsen’

(Leiden, Boston 2010), pp. 81–93 suggesting a date earlier in Henry I’s reign than used to be thought;

Leges Henrici Primi, ed. L. J. Downer (Oxford, 1972); N. Karn, ‘Rethinking the Leges Henrici Primi’, Jurasinski, Oliver and Rabin (eds.), English Law before Magna

Carta, pp. 199–220; N. Karn, ‘Quadripartitus, Leges Henrici Primi and the Scholarship of English Law in the Early Twelfth Century’, Anglo-Norman Studies, xxxvii (2014), 149–60. 164 .

Sharpe, ‘The Prefaces of “Quadripartitus”’.

165 .

B. O’Brien, God’s Peace and King’s Peace. The Laws of

Edward the Confessor (Philadelphia, 1999); Wormald, Making of English Law, pp. 404–5. 166 .

O’Brien, God’s Peace and King’s Peace, pp, 44–61. ‘Legal Treatises as Perceptions of Law in Stephen’s Reign’, Dalton and White (eds.), King Stephen’s Reign

(1135–54), pp. 182–95. 167 .

Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen, i, 279–371.

168 .

Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen, i, 493–520; Wormald, Making of English Law, p. 409.

169 .

S. Harris, ‘Tam Anglis quam Danis: ‘Old Norse’ Terminology in the Constitutiones de Foresta’, Anglo-

Norman Studies, xxxvii (2014), 131–48. 170 .

B. O’Brien, ‘Pre-Conquest Laws and Legislators in the Twelfth Century’, Brett and Woodman (eds.), Long

Twelfth-Century View of the Anglo-Saxon Past, pp. 229– 68. 171 .

Edbury, ‘The Assises d’Antioche: Law and Custom in the Principality of Antioch’.

172 .

Edbury, ‘Assises d’Antioche’, p. 248.

173 .

J. A. Brundage, ‘Latin Jurists in the Levant’, M. Schatzmiller (ed.), Crusaders and Muslims in Twelfth-

Century Syria (Leiden, 1993), pp. 18–42, at p. 21. 174 .

For the qadi dealing with Muslims at Antioch see Buck,

Principality of Antioch, pp. 176–8. 175 .

A

point

recently

reiterated

by

E.

Brenner,

‘The

Transmission of Medical Culture in the Norman Worlds,

c.1050–c.1250’, Bates, d’Angelo, and Van Houts (eds.), People, Texts and Artefacts, pp. 47–63. 176 .

J. Tolan, Petrus Alfonsi and His Medieval Readers (Gainesville, FL, 1993); C. Burnett, ‘The Works of Petrus Alfonsi: Questions of Authenticity’, Medium

Aevum lxvi (1997), 42–79. 177 .

C. H. Haskins, Studies in the History of Mediaeval

Science (Harvard, MA, 1927), p. 119. 178 .

Burnett, ‘Works of Petrus Alfonsi’, 63.

179 .

Burnett, ‘Malvern, Walcher of’, ODNB.

180 .

Burnett, ‘Malvern, Walcher of’, ODNB.

181 .

J. Barrow, ‘Robert the Lotharingian [Robert de Losinga] (d. 1095)’, ODNB.

182 .

C. Burnett, ‘Bath, Adelard of’, ODNB.

183 .

M.

Lejbowicz,

‘Adélard

citharède

et

la

Reine

musicophile’, Cahiers de recherches médiévales et

humanistes, xxxi (2016), 329–52. 184 .

Pipe Roll 31 Henry I, p. 17.

185 .

C. Burnett, ‘Adelard of Bath and the Arabs’, Arabic into

Latin in the Middle Ages. The Translators and their Intellectual and Social Context, III, pp. 89–107 at p. 106. 186 .

C. Burnett, ‘Antioch as a Link between Arabic and Latin Culture in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’,

Arabic into Latin in the Middle Ages, IV, pp. 1–78. 187 .

Adelard

of

Bath,

Quaestiones

naturales,

Q.

50,

Conversations with his Nephew: On the Same and the Different, Questions on Natural Science, and On Birds,

eds. C. Burnett, I. Ronca, P. Mantas España and B. Van Den Abeele (Cambridge, 1998), p. 184. 188 .

Burnett, ‘Antioch’, pp. 6–13.

189 .

M. Angold, ‘The Norman Sicilian Court as a Centre for the Translation of Classical Texts’, Mediterranean

History Review, xxxv (2020), 147–67. 190 .

S. Edgington, ‘Medicine in the Crusader States’, Kostick (ed.), Crusades and the Near East, pp. 189–215; see now J. E. Phillips, ‘The Experience of Sickness and Health during Crusader Campaigns to the Eastern Mediterranean, 1095–1274’, unpublished PhD thesis, University of Leeds (2017).

191 .

Usama Ibn-Munqidh, An Arab-Syrian Gentleman and

Warrior in the Period of the Crusades: Memoirs of Usama Ibn-Munqidh (Kitab al i’tibar), trans. P. K. Hitti (New York, 1929), pp. 162–3 cited by Hillenbrand, The

Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 352–3. 192 .

P. Kristeller, ‘The School of Salerno: Its Development and Its Contribution to the History of Learning’,

Bulletin of the History of Medicine, xvii (1945), 138–94, at 151–3.

193 .

For context see M. Green, ‘Medicine in Southern Italy, Twelfth-Fourteenth Centuries: Six Texts’, K. L. Jansen, J. Drell and F. Andrews (eds.), Medieval Italy: Texts in

Translation

(Philadelphia,

2009),

pp.

311–25;

E.

Kwakkel, F. Newton with an Introduction by E. Glaze,

Medicine at Monte Cassino: Constantine the African and the Oldest Manuscript of his Pantegni (Turnhout, 2019). 194 .

Brenner, ‘Transmission of Medical Culture’, pp. 47–9; for later translations into Anglo-Norman see M. Green, ‘Salerno on the Thames: the Genesis of Anglo-Norman Medical Literature’, J. Wogan-Browne (ed.), Language

and Culture in Medieval Britain: The French of England 1100–1500 (Woodbridge, 2009), pp. 220–31. 195 .

J. R. C. Riley-Smith, Hospitallers: The History of the

Order of St John of Jerusalem (London, 1999); H. J. Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller (Woodbridge, 2001). 196 .

For a brief overview see J. W. Brodman, ‘Hospitals in the Middle Ages’, C. Lansing and E. D. English (eds.), A

Companion to the Medieval World (Chichester and Malden, MA, 2009), pp. 257–75.

197 .

Eadmer, Historia Novorum, pp. 15–16; History of

Recent Events (trans. Bosanquet), pp. 15-16. 198 .

S. Roffey, ‘Medieval Leper Hospitals in England: an Archaeological Perspective’, Medieval Archaeology, lvi (2012), 203–32 at 208–11.

199 .

G. Owen-Crocker, ‘The Bayeux ‘Tapestry’: Culottes, Tunics and Garters, and the Making of the Hanging’,

Costume, xxvii (1994), 1–9. 200 .

WP, pp. 178–80.

201 .

For the depiction of difference see D. Higgs Strickland,

Saracens, Demons and Jews: Making Monsters in Medieval Art (Princeton, 2003). 202 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 458.

203 .

OV, ii, 256.

204 .

R. Bartlett, ‘The Symbolic Meaning of Hair in the Middle Ages’, Transactions of the Royal Historical

Society, 6th series, iv (1994), 43–60. 205 .

OV, vi, 60–8.

206 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 558–60.

207 .

Marbod of Rennes, Carmina, XXIV, PL, clxxi, cols. 1660B–1660D.

208 .

M. Fennell Mazoui, The Italian Cotton Industry in the

Later Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1981), pp. 23–7. 209 .

Nablus, cap. 16, Kedar, ‘On the Origins of the Earliest Laws of Frankish Jerusalem’, Speculum, lxxiv (1999), 334.

210 .

For the colour yellow prescribed for Jews see L. Yarmo, ‘From Dye to Identity: Linking Saffron to Stigmatizing Jewish Dress Codes and the Paradox of a Yellow-Robed Moses in the Sistine Chapel’, The International Journal

of Arts Theory and History, xi (2016), 19–31. 211 .

WP, p. 180.

212 .

G. A. Loud, ‘Coinage, Wealth and Plunder in the Age of Robert Guiscard’, English

Historical Review, cxiv

(1999), 815–43 at 822. 213 .

C. Vernon, ‘Dressing for Succession in Norman Italy: the Mantle of Roger II’, Al-Masāq, xxxi (2019), 95–110

at 95, citing J. Johns, ‘Arabic Inscriptions in the Cappella Palatina: Performativity, Audience, Legibility and Illegibility’, A. Eastmond (ed.), Viewing Inscriptions

in the Late Antique and Medieval World (Cambridge, 2015), p. 134. For silk see Vernon, ‘Dressing for Succession’, 97–100; I. Dolezalak, ‘Textile Connections? Two Ifrīqiyan Church Treasuries in Norman Sicily and the Problem of Continuity across Political Change’, Al-

Masāq, xxv (2013), 92–112. 214 .

Vernon, ‘Dressing for Succession’, 105–6.

215 .

D. M. Hayes, ‘French Connections: The Significance of the Fleurs-de-Lis in the Mosaic of King Roger II of Sicily in the Church of Santa Maria dell’Ammiraglio, Palermo’, Viator, xliv (2013), 119–49; W. Tronzo, The

Cultures of his Kingdom: Roger II and the Cappella Palatina in Palermo (Princeton, 1997); K. C. Britt, ‘Roger II of Sicily: Rex, Basileus and Khalif? Identity, Politics and Propaganda in the Cappella Palatina’,

Mediterranean Studies, xvi (2007), 21–45. 216 .

Amatus, p. 50.

217 .

J. H. Galloway, ‘The Mediterranean Sugar Industry’,

Geographical Review, lxvii (1977), 177–94; J. Bronstein, E. J. Stern and E. Yehuda, ‘Franks, Locals and Sugar

Cane: A Case Study of Cultural Interaction in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, Journal of Medieval History, xlv (2019), 316–30. 218 .

N. Sykes, The Norman Conquest: A Zooarchaeological

Perspective (Oxford, 2007), pp. 73–5. 219 .

GND, ii, 8.

220 .

Sykes, The Norman Conquest: A Zooarchaeological

Perspective, pp. 76–85. 221 .

Lestoire des Engleis, lines 5975–6110.

222 .

Thomas,

The

English

and

the

Normans:

Ethnic

Hostility, Assimilation and Identity 1066–c.1220. Chapter 10  Buildings     1 .

See Reilly, Invention of Norman Visual Culture. Reilly addresses similar questions as this chapter, but takes a wider

approach,

including

the

Bayeux

Tapestry,

mosaics and church furnishings.     2 .

T. Tatton-Brown, ‘La pierre de Caen en Angleterre’, Baylé (ed.), Architecture normande au Moyen Age, i, pp. 305–14; Bates, Normans and Empire, pp. 38–9.

    3 .

M. Thurlby, ‘L’Abbatiale romane de St Albans’, Baylé (ed.), Architecture normande au Moyen Age, i, 79–90.

    4 .

For Colchester castle built on the base of the Temple of Claudius, see Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 67.

    5 .

For Sicily see now C. Bruzelius and P. Vitolo, ‘The Medieval Kingdom of Sicily Image Database’, Visual

Resources, xxxv (2019), 74–87.     6 .

H. M. Taylor and J. Taylor, Anglo-Saxon Architecture, 2 vols (Cambridge, 1965) catalogued churches with supposed Anglo-Saxon features. A debate about where the cut-off point should be ensued: see, for example, the review by Jean Bony, Journal of the Society of

Architectural Historians, xxvi (1967), 74–7. M. Thurlby, ‘The

Anglo-Saxon

Tradition

in

Post-Conquest

Architecture and Sculpture’, Brett and Woodman (eds.),

Long Twelfth-Century View of the Anglo-Saxon Past, pp. 307–58.     7 .

Reilly, Invention of Norman Visual Culture, pp. 4–6.

    8 .

L. Hicks, Religious Life in Normandy, 1050–1300.

Space, Gender and Social Pressure (Woodbridge,

2007).     9 .

R.

Gilchrist,

Gender

and

Material

Culture:

The

Archaeology of Religious Women (London, 1994), pp. 128–48.   10 .

D. Rollason, ‘Forests, Parks, Palaces, and the Power of Place in Early Medieval Kingship’, Early Medieval

Europe, xx (2012), 429–49.   11 .

The term ‘house’ is also used of non-royal residences in England: M. Wood, The English Mediaeval House (London, 1981 edn). Wood’s study begins with Norman houses.

  12 .

Carocci, Lordships of Southern Italy, p. 100.

  13 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, p. 45 n. 99.

  14 .

R.

Allen

Brown,

English Castles,

paperback

edn

(London, 1962), p.17.   15 .

E. Impey, ‘A Castle in the Air? The Building, Arms, Action and Incident on the Eleventh-Century “Castle” Capital from Westminster Hall’, Arms and Armour, xiii (2016), 75–97.

  16 .

O. Creighton, Castles and Landscapes (London, 2002).

  17 .

R. Higham and P. Barker, Timber Castles (London, 1992).

  18 .

J. Le Maho, ‘Note sur l’histoire d’un habitat seigneurial des XIe et XIIe siècles en Normandie: Mirville’, Anglo-

Norman Studies, vii (1984), 214–23; J. Decaens, ‘La motte

d’Olivet

à

Grimbosq

(Calvados).

Résidence

seigneuriale du XIe siècle’, Archéologie médiévale, xi (1981), 167–201.   19 .

For Langeais: E. Impey and E. Lorans, ‘Le Donjon de Langeais et son environnement’, Bulletin Monumental, clvi (1998), 9–63; for Mayenne and Loches: Fernie,

Architecture of Norman England, pp. 53–5.   20 .

A. Renoux, ‘Châteaux et résidences fortifiées des Ducs de Normandie aux XIe et XIe siècles’, Actes des

congrès de la Société médiévale (1989), 113–24.   21 .

A. Renoux, ‘Le palais et le château de Fécamp’, Baylé (ed.), L’architecture normande au moyen age, ii, 232–4.

  22 .

GND, ii, 226. For Falaise see C. Lepiche and B. Panozzo, ‘Le Château de Falaise: Bilan de 150 ans de

restaurations dans plus de 1000 ans d’histoire’, J. A. Davies, C. Lapiche, A. Riley and J.-M. Levesque (eds.),

Castles and the Anglo-Norman World: Proceedings of a Conference Held at Norwich Castle in 2012 (Oxford, 2016), pp. 75–88.   23 .

For the view that this jurisdiction went back to Carolingian

times

C.

Coulson,

‘Rendability

and

Castellation in Medieval France’, Château Gaillard, vi (1973), 59–67; Hagger, Norman Rule in Normandy, pp. 443, 445–6; cf. S. MacLean, ‘The Edict of Pîtres, Carolingian Defence against the Vikings, and the Origin of the Medieval Castle’, Transactions of the Royal

Historical Society, 6th Series, xxx (2020), 29–54, at 35.   24 .

Consuetudines

et

iusticie,

Haskins,

Norman

Institutions, caps. 4, 5, p. 282.   25 .

M. Baylé, ‘Mont-Saint-Michel: Église Notre-Dame-sousTerre’, ‘Mont-Saint-Michel: Abbatiale Romane’, Baylé (ed.), L’Architecture normande, ii, 12–13, 45–7; Smith, ‘Architectural Mimesis at the Abbey of Mont-SaintMichel’.

  26 .

J. Le Maho and A.-M. Carment-Lanfry, La Cathédrale

Notre-Dame de Rouen (Rouen, 2018), pp. 19–22.

  27 .

M. Baylé, ‘Bernay: Abbatiale Notre-Dame’, ‘Jumièges: Abbatiale

Notre-Dame’,

normande,

ii,

27–31,

L’Architecture

Baylé

(ed.),

32-6.

Saint-Wandrille

was

mentioned as one of the houses restored by Richard II,

GND, ii, 134.   28 .

M.

Baylé,

‘Coutances:

‘Bayeux:

Cathédrale

Cathédrale

Notre-Dame’,

Notre-Dame’, Baylé

(ed.),

L’Architecture normande, ii, 37–42, 43–4. Also useful for understanding the eleventh-century building is Norton, ‘Viewing the Bayeux Tapestry, Now and Then’,

Journal of the British Archaeological Association.   29 .

Little unfortunately remains of the early churches at Fécamp and Bec.

  30 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 91.

  31 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 96.

  32 .

Reilly, Invention of Norman Visual Culture, p. 54.

  33 .

E. G. Carlson, ‘A Charter for Saint-Etienne, Caen: A Document and Its Implications’, Gesta, xv (1976), 11– 14.

  34 .

Grant, Architecture and Society in Normandy 1120–

1170, pp. 52–4.   35 .

Loud, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 53, 102.

  36 .

J.-M. Pesez and G. Noyé, Archéologie normande en

Italie méridionale et en Sicile, Les mondes normands (VIIIe–XIIe s.), Actes des congrès de la Société d’archéologie médiévale (1989), pp. 155–169.   37 .

Malaterra, pp. 60, 62–3, 115; A. Flambard and G. Noye, ‘Le château de Scribla. Étude archéologique’, Società,

potere e populo nell’età di Ruggero II. Atti delle terze Giornate Normanno-Svevo (Bari 1977) (Bari, 1979), pp. 225–38.   38 .

H. Bresc, ‘Les Normands, Constructeurs de Châteaux’, P. Bouet and F. Neveux (eds.), Les Normands en

Méditerranée (Caen, 1994), pp. 63–75.   39 .

E.

Pezzini,

‘Palermo

in

the

Twelfth

Century:

Transformations in Forma Urbis’, Nef (ed.), Companion

to Medieval Palermo, pp. 195–232 at pp. 201–7.   40 .

Pesez,

Noyé,

Archéologie

normande

méridionale et en Sicile, pp. 165–6.

en

Italie

  41 .

A. Molinari, ‘Fortified and Unfortified Settlements in Byzantine and Islamic Sicily: 6th to 11th Centuries’, N. Christie and H. Herold (eds.), Fortified Settlements in

Early Medieval Europe: Defended Communities of the 8th–10th Centuries (Oxford, 2016) pp. 182–200.   42 .

G.

Bresc

and

H.

Bresc,

‘Ségestes

médiévales:

Calathamet, Calatabarbaro, Calatafimi’, Mélanges de

l’Ecole

française

modernes,

de

lxxxix/1

Rome.

(1977),

Moyen-Age,

341–70;

A.

Temps

Molinari,

‘L’incastellamento in Sicilia in epoca normanno-sveva: il caso de Segesta’, Publications de l’Ecole française de

Rome, ccxli/1 (1998), 271–90; J.-M. Pesez, ‘Sicile arabe et

Sicile

normande:

châteaux

arabes

et

arabo-

normands’, Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,

Moyen Age, cx/2 (1998), 561–76.   43 .

Molinari, ‘Fortified and Unfortified Settlements’, p. 195.

  44 .

H. Kennedy, Crusader Castles (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 78–9.

  45 .

Kennedy, Crusader Castles, pp. 79–84.

  46 .

Kennedy, Crusader Castles, pp. 84–96.

  47 .

OV, ii, 218.

  48 .

Viz. Richard’s castle, Ewias Harold, and Clavering, in Essex, held by Robert fitz Wimarc. Hereford castle may also predate the Conquest: E. Armitage, Early Norman

Castles of the British Isles (London, 1912), p. 161.   49 .

Blair, Building Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 232–46; M. Blake and A. Sargent, ‘“For the Protection of All the People”: Æthelflaed and her Burhs in Northwest Mercia’, Midland History, xliii (2018), 120–54.

  50 .

M. Gardiner, ‘Manorial Farmsteads and the Expression of Lordship before and after the Norman Conquest’, Hadley and Dyer (eds.), Archaeology of the Eleventh

Century. Continuities and Transformations, pp. 88–103.   51 .

M. G. Shapland, ‘Anglo-Saxon Towers of Lordship and the Origins of the Castle in England’, Hadley and Dyer (eds.), Archaeology of the Eleventh Century, pp. 104– 19.

  52 .

Blair, Building Anglo-Saxon England, p. 399.

  53 .

The

classic

example

here

was

Sulgrave

in

Northamptonshire: B. Davison, ‘Sulgrave’, Medieval

Archaeology, v (1961), 328; vi–vii (1962–3), 333; ‘The Origins of the Castle in England: the Institute’s Research Project’, Archaeological Journal, cxx (1967), 202–11.   54 .

M. Fradley, ‘Scars on the Townscape: Urban Castles in Saxo-Norman

England’,

Hadley

and

Dyer

(eds.),

Archaeology of the Eleventh Century, pp. 120–38; for London, Impey, ‘William the Conqueror and London’s Early Castles’.   55 .

Blair, Building Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 397–8.

  56 .

OV, ii, 214.

  57 .

S. R. Blaylock and R. A. Higham, ‘The Castle’: ‘The Exeter

Area:

Proceedings

of

the

136th

Summer

Meeting’, Archaeological Journal, cxlvii, Supplement (1990), 35–9.   58 .

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100 .

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106 .

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108 .

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Garnett, Norman Conquest, p. 109.

110 .

Fernie, ‘1066 and Ecclesiastical Architecture’, p. 189.

111 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, pp. 34–41.

112 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 128.

113 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, pp. 135–7.

114 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 139.

115 .

Reilly, Invention of Norman Visual Culture, pp. 100–14.

116 .

M. Bernstein, ‘A Bishop of Two Peoples: William of St Calais

and

the

Hybridization

of

Architecture

in

Eleventh-Century Durham’, Journal of the Society of

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Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 152.

118 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, p. 164.

119 .

R. Baxter, The Royal Abbey of Reading (Woodbridge, 2017), pp. 262–300.

120 .

E. Fernie, ‘Edward the Confessor’s Westminster Abbey’, R. Mortimer (ed.), Edward the Confessor: the Man and

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E. Fernie, ‘The Architectural Influence of Durham Cathedral’, D. Rollason, M. Harvey and M. Prestwich (eds.), Anglo-Norman Durham 1093–1193 (Woodbridge, 1994), pp. 269–79.

122 .

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123 .

R. Fawcett and R. Oram, Melrose Abbey (Stroud, 2004); G. W. S. Barrow, ‘Benedictines, Tironensians and Cistercians’,

Barrow,

The

Kingdom

of

the

Scots

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Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, pp. 208–32.

125 .

Fernie, Architecture of Norman England, pp. 223–4.

126 .

Davies, Age of Conquest, pp. 187–8; Oram, Domination

and Lordship: Scotland 1070–1230, pp. 322, 348–9. For a useful survey of churches in two dioceses see R. Fawcett

and

R.

Oram,

‘Scottish

Medieval

Parish

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H. Kennedy, ‘Antioch: from Byzantium to Islam and Back Again’, J. Rich (ed.), The City in Late Antiquity (London, 1992), pp. 181–98.

128 .

AA, pp. 342, 836. Conclusion

    1 .

W. L. Warren, ‘The Myth of Norman Administrative Efficiency’,

Transactions

of

the

Royal

Historical

Society, 6th Series, xxxiv (1984), 113–32.     2 .

Taylor, The Shape of the State in Medieval Scotland, pp. 12–19.

    3 .

WM, Gesta Regum Anglorum, i, 484.

    4 .

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, p. 130.

Map 1: The Mediterranean World

Map 2: Normandy

Map 3: Southern Italy and Sicily

Map 4: Britain

Map 5: Eastern Mediterranean Table 1: Dukes of the Normans and their Family Connections

Table 2: The Hauteville Family

Table 3: Giroie and Grandmesnil

Table 4: The Crispins

Table 5: The Tosnys

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INDEX Abbo the Breton, (i) Abernethy, (i), (ii) Abruzzo, (i), (ii) Abû ‘Abdallâh al-Idrīsī, (i) Adalbero, bishop of Laon, (i) Adana, (i), (ii) Adela, countess of Blois, (i) Adelaisia del Vasto, countess of Sicily, queen of Jerusalem, (i), (ii), (iii) Adelard of Bath, (i) Adeliza of Louvain, queen, (i) Adhémar bishop of Le Puy, (i), (ii), (iii) Adhémar of Chabannes, (i), (ii) Adrian IV, pope, (i) Ælfgar, earl of Mercia, (i) Ælfheah, archbishop of Canterbury, (i) Aelred abbot of Rievaulx, (i) Æthelberht, king of Kent, (i) Æthelmaer, bishop of Elmham, (i) Æthelred, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Æthelric, bishop of Durham, (i) Æthelsige, abbot of St Augustine’s Canterbury, (i) Æthelstan, king, (i), (ii) Æthelwine, bishop of Durham, (i) Æthelwold, bishop of Winchester, (i) Agatha, saint, (i)

Aimery of Limoges, (i) Al-Afdal, (i) Alan count of Nantes, (i) Alan Rufus, count of the Bretons, (i), (ii), (iii) Albert of Aachen, author, (i) Alberada, wife of Robert Guiscard, (i), (ii), (iii) Alberic of Ostia, papal legate, (i) Albion, (i) Alençon, siege of, (i), (ii) Aleppo, (i), (ii), (iii) Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, (i), (ii) Alexander I, king of Scots, (i), (ii), (iii) Alexander II, pope, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Alexander of Telese, (i), (ii), (iii) Alexandretta, (i) Alexandria, (i) Alexios Comnenos, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii) n. 11 Alexis, saint, (i) Alfanus, archbishop of Salerno, (i) Alfonso, king of Aragon, (i) Alfred Ætheling, (i) Alfred, king of England, (i), (ii) Al-Idrīsī, see Abû ‘Abdallâh al-Idrīsī Al-Khwārismī, (i)

Amalfi, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) siege of, (i), (ii) Amatus of Monte Cassino, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) Amicus, his sons Peter and Walter, (i), (ii), (iii) n. 67 Amiens, (i), (ii) Anacletus, antipope, (i), (ii) Andrew of Coutances, author, (i) Andronikos Doukas, (i) Angers, abbey of Saint-Serge, (i) Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Anjou, Angevins, (i), (ii), (iii) counts of, see Fulk IV, Fulk V, Geoffrey, Geoffrey ‘the bearded’ Anna Comnena, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) n. 11 Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) n. 31 Anselm de Ribemont, (i) Ansger the Staller, (i) Antioch, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii), (xxxviii), (xxxix), (xl), (xli), (xlii), (xliii), (xliv),

(xlv), (xlvi), (xlvii), (xlviii), (xlix), (l), (li), (lii), (liii), (liv), (lv), (lvi), (lvii), (lviii), (lix), (lx), (lxi), (lxii) n. 205 church of St Paul, (i) church of St Peter, (i), (ii) governor of, see Yaghi Sivan patriarchs of, see Aimery of Limoges, Arnulf of Chocques, Bernard of Valence, Ralph of Domfront princes of, see Bohemond I, Bohemond II, Roger of Salerno siege of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) antipopes, see Anacletus, Clement III Apamea, (i), (ii) siege of, (i) Apulia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii), (xxxviii), (xxxix), (xl) Aquitaine, Aquitanians, (i), (ii) Arduin, (i), (ii) Argyrus, son of Melus of Bari, (i), (ii) Ariano, (i) see also Assizes of, Jordan, count of Armenia, Armenians, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Arnold de Grandmesnil, (i) Arnold of Echauffour, son of Giroie, (i), (ii) Arnold, son of Humphrey de Tilleul, (i) Arnulf, archbishop of Milan, (i)

Arnulf I, count of Flanders, (i), (ii) Arnulf of Chocques, patriarch of Antioch, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Arqa, (i), (ii) Arques, (i) Artah, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) bishop of, see Bernard of Valence siege of, (i) Arthur, king, (i) Ascalon, battle of, (i), (ii), (iii) Asclettin, (i), (ii)

Assises d’Antioche, (i) Assizes of Ariano (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Aubrey de Grandmesnil, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Aubrey de Vere, (i) Augustine, saint, (i), (ii) Augustinians, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Auvergne, (i) Aversa, (i), (ii) counts of, see Rainulf I, Rainulf II, Richard church of St Lawrence, (i) Avlona (Vlöre), (i) Avranchin, (i) Avre, river, (i), (ii) Baghdad, (i) Bailleul, (i) Baldwin, abbot of Bury St Edmunds, (i)

Baldwin I of Boulogne, king of Jerusalem, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) n. 86 Baldwin of Bourcq, count of Edessa, Baldwin II king of Jerusalem, (i), (ii), (iii) Bamburgh, (i), (ii) Bangor, see Hervey, bishop of Barbastro, siege and battle of, (i), (ii), (iii) Bari, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi) church of St Nicholas, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) council of, (i) siege of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Barneville, (i) Barnwell priory, (i) Basil Boiannes, (i) Basil II ‘the Bulgar Slayer’, emperor, (i), (ii) Bath, bishop of, (i), (ii) Battle abbey, (i) battles, see Ascalon, Barbastro, Cannae, Cerami, Civitate, Dorylaeum, Field of Blood, Gerberoy, Harran, Hastings, Heraclea, Levounion, Lincoln, Manzikert, Mortemer, Nicaea, Stamford Bridge, Standard, Stiklestad, Tell Danith, Tinchebray, Val-ès-Dunes, Varaville Baudry of Bourgueil, (i), (ii), (iii) Bayeux, (i), (ii), (iii) bishop of, see Odo canon of, see Serlo

cathedral, (i), (ii), (iii) count of, see Berengar Tapestry, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) n. 9 Vicomte, see Ranulf Beaumont family, (i), (ii) see also Robert, count of Meulan, Robert, earl of Leicester, Roger of Beauvais, (i) Bec-Hellouin, abbey of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi) Bede, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Bellême family, (i), (ii), (iii) see also Mabel, Robert de Belvoir, (i) Benedict VIII, pope, (i), (ii) Benedict X, pope, (i) Benedict, saint, (i) Beneit, (i) Benevento, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) abbey of S. Sophia, (i) treaty of, (i) Benjamin of Tudela, (i), (ii) Benoît de Sainte-Maure, (i) Benzo bishop of Albi, (i) Berengar de Todeni, (i) Bernard of Valence, patriarch, (i), (ii), (iii) Bernard the Dane, (i)

Bernay abbey, (i), (ii) Bertrada de Montfort, (i) Bessin, (i) Bethlehem, (i) Bjorn Ironside, (i) Blois, (i), (ii), (iii) count of, see Stephen, Theobald the Trickster countess of, see Adela Boel of Chartres, (i) Bohemond I, prince of Antioch, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx) n. 11 Bohemond II, prince of Antioch, (i) Bohemond III, prince of Antioch, (i), (ii) Bonizo of Sutri, (i) Boulogne, (i), (ii) counts of, see Eustace, Stephen Bourzey, (i) Brampton, (i) Brendan, saint, (i) Brictric of Haselbury, (i) Brindisi, (i), (ii) Bristol, (i) Brittany, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi) counts of, see Alan, Geoffrey Brix, (i)

Bruges, (i) Bruno, St, of Cologne, (i)

Brut y Tywysogion, (i), (ii) Buern Butsecarl, (i) Bugamo, (i) Bulgars, (i), (ii) Burgundy, Burgundians, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Burton on Trent abbey, (i) Bury St Edmunds, abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Butrint, (i), (ii) Byblos, bishop of, (i) Caen, (i) abbeys Holy Trinity, (i), (ii), (iii) St Stephen, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi); abbot of, see Lanfranc stone, (i) Caerwent, (i)

Caid Palermo, (i) Syracuse, (i) Cairo, (i) Calabria, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii) Calixtus II, pope, (i) Calvados, department, (i)

Campania, (i) Cannae, battle of, (i) Canossa, (i) Canosa di Puglia, (i) Canterbury, (i) archbishops, see Ælfheah, Anselm, Dunstan, Lanfranc, Robert of Jumièges, Stigand, Thomas Becket castle, (i) churches Christ Church, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) St Augustine’s abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv); abbots of, see Æthelsige primacy, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Capitanata, (i), (ii) counts of, see Geoffrey, Mauger, William Capua, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii) princes of, see Jordan, Pandulf IV, Richard siege of, (i), (ii) Carentan, (i) Carlisle, (i), (ii) Carmarthen, (i)

Carmen de Hastingae Proelio, (i), (ii) Carolingian, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Casauria, San Clemente chronicle of, (i), (ii)

Caserta, (i) Castle Rising, (i) Castrogiovanni, (i) Cataldus, saint, (i)

Catalogus Baronum, (i), (ii) Catania, (i), (ii), (iii) abbey of Sant’Agata, (i), (ii) siege of, (i) Catherine, saint, of Alexandria, (i) Catherine, saint, of Sinai, (i) Caux, Pays de, (i), (ii), (iii) Cava, abbey of SS. Trinità, (i), (ii) Cecilia daughter of Louis VI, (i) Cefalù, (i), (ii) Cephalonia, (i) Cerami, battle of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Chamut, Muslim lord in Sicily, (i)

Chanson d’Antioche, (i) Chanson de Roland, (i), (ii) Charité-sur-Loire, La, (i) Charlemagne, (i), (ii) Charles the Simple, king of the west Franks, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Charroux, (i) Chartres, Chartrain, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Châteaudun, (i), (ii) Chepstow, (i)

Chester abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) earls, see Gherbod the Fleming, Hugh d’Avranches, Ranulf II Christina, sister of Queen Margaret, (i), (ii) n. 31 Christina of Markyate, (i) Cilicia, (i), (ii) Cistercians, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Civitate, battle of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Clarendon, Constitutions of, (i) Clemence of Barking, (i) Clement III, antipope, (i) Clermont, council of, (i) Cluny abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Cnut I, king of Denmark, England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Cnut IV, king of Denmark, (i), (ii), (iii) coinage, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Colchester, castle of, (i), (ii) Cologne, see Pilgrim archbishop of Compostela, shrine of St James at, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Conan, duke of the Bretons, (i) Conan, son of Geoffrey of Lamballe, (i) Conisbrough, (i) Conrad II, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii)

Consiliatio Cnuti, (i) Constance, daughter of Bohemond II, (i) Constantine, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v)

Constantine Doukas, (i) Constantine, son of Emperor Michael VII, (i) Constantine the African, (i) Constantinople, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii) Santa Sophia, (i) Stoudios monastery, (i) Corbridge, (i) Corfu, (i), (ii), (iii) Corinth, (i) Cornwall, Cornish, (i), (ii) Cosenza, (i) Cotentin, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) councils, see Clermont, Gloucester, London, Nablus, Winchester, Windsor courts church, (i), (ii) hundred, (i), (ii) shire, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Coutances, (i), (ii) bishop of, see Geoffrey Crispin family, (i), (ii) see also Gilbert I, Gilbert II, Gilbert abbot of Westminster, Miles, Robert, William I Crowland abbey, (i) Crusade, First, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii)

Crusade, Second, (i) Cumbria, (i), (ii), (iii) Cuthbert, saint, (i), (ii) Cyprus, (i) Dacia, (i), (ii) Daimbert, patriarch, (i) Dalmatia, (i) Dalmeny, (i) Damascus, (i) Danube, river, (i) David, king of Scots, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Deganwy, (i) Demetrius, saint, (i) Denmark, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) kings of, see Cnut I, Cnut IV, Swein Estrithson, Swein Forkbeard Desiderius, abbot of Monte Cassino (Pope Victor III), (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Devizes, (i) Devol treaty of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) n. 111 river, (i) diaspora, (i), (ii) Dinan, (i)

Diwan, (i) Dol, (i)

Domesday Book and Inquest, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii) Domfront, (i) Dorylaeum, battle of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) Doué-la-Fontaine, (i) Dover castle, (i) Drengot family, see Osmund, Richard, count of Aversa Drogo de Hauteville, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Drogo de Mouchy, (i)

duana baronum, (i) Dudo of Saint-Quentin, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii) Dunfermline, (i) Dunkeld, (i) Dunstan, archbishop of Canterbury, saint, (i), (ii), (iii) Durham, (i), (ii) bishops of, see Æthelric, Æthelwine, Ranulf Flambard cathedral, (i) monks, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Durrës, Durazzo, Dyrrachion, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) siege of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Eadmer, monk of Canterbury, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Eadwine Psalter, (i) Ealdgyth, queen, wife of Harold Godwinson, (i) Ebles de Roucy, (i)

Edessa, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) count of, see Baldwin I, Baldwin of Bourcq siege of, (i) Edgar Ætheling, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Edgar, king of the English, (i) Edgar, king of Scots, (i) Edith de Warenne, (i) Edith, queen, wife of Edward the Confessor, (i) Edith/Matilda, queen, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) n. 31 Edmund Ironside, king of England, (i), (ii) Edward the Confessor, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv) Edward the Exile, (i), (ii) Edwin, earl of Mercia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Elizabeth of Vermandois, (i) Elmham, bishop of, see Æthelmaer Ely, siege of, (i) emigration, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Emma of Normandy, queen, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) emperors Byzantine, see Alexios Comnenos, Andronikos Doukas, Basil II ‘the Bulgar Slayer’, Constantine Doukas, Isaac Comnenos, John Comnenos, Justinian, Michael VII, Romanos IV Doukas, Romanos IV Diogenes Roman, see Constantine, Justinian western, see Conrad, Henry II, Henry III, Henry IV

England kings of, see Æthelred, Æthelstan, Alfred, Edgar, Edmund, Edward the Confessor, Harold Godwinson, Henry I, Henry II, Stephen, William I, William II (Rufus) queens of, see Adeliza of Louvain, Edith, Ealdgyth, Emma, Matilda I, Edith/Matilda II Epirus, (i), (ii) Epte, river, (i), (ii), (iii) Ernulf de Hesdin, (i) Eu, (i), (ii) Eure, department, (i) river, (i), (ii) Eustace, count of Boulogne, (i) Evesham abbot of, see Walter of Évreux, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) bishop of, see Gilbert count of, see Robert, William Exeter bishop of, see Leofric castle, (i) Falaise castle, (i) Falco of Benevento, (i) Falkirk, (i)

familiares, (i), (ii) Fatimids, (i), (ii) Fécamp, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii)

feudalism, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) fiefs, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Field of Blood, battle of the, (i), (ii) Firuz, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Flamstead, (i) Flanders, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) counts of, see Arnulf, Baldwin IV, Baldwin V, Robert I the Frisian, Robert II ‘the Jerusalemite’ Flemings, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Flodoard of Rheims, author, (i), (ii), (iii) Foy, saint, (i) France, kings of, see Henry I, Louis VI, Louis VII, Philip I, Philip II Augustus Franks, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii) Fressenda, wife of Tancred de Hauteville, (i) frontiers, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi) Fulcher of Chartres, chronicler, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Fulk IV, count of Anjou, (i) Fulk V, count of Anjou, king of Jerusalem, (i), (ii) Fulk, son of Giroie, (i) Gaeta, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Galeria Antica, siege of, (i) Galilee, (i) prince, see Tancred

Gargano peninsula, shrine at Monte Sant’Angelo, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Gascony, (i) Gaston of Bearn, (i) gender, (i), (ii), (iii) Geniza archive, (i) Genoa, Genoese, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Geoffrey, bishop of Coutances, (i) Geoffrey, count of Anjou, (i), (ii) Geoffrey count of Conversano, (i), (ii) Geoffrey, count of Rennes, (i) Judith, his sister, (i) Geoffrey de Clinton, (i) Geoffrey Gaimar, author, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Geoffrey Malaterra, author, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi) Geoffrey of Monmouth, author, (i) Geoffrey of Montescaglioso, (i) Geoffrey of Vigeois, (i) Geoffrey Plantagenet, archbishop of York, (i) Geoffrey (III) ‘the Bearded’, count of Anjou, (i), (ii) George Maniakes, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) George of Antioch, admiral, (i) George, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Gerace, (i) Gerard of Buonalbergo, (i), (ii) Gerard of Gournay, (i)

Gerberoy, battle of, (i) Gervase of Tilbury, (i)

Gesta Francorum, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Gherbod the Fleming, earl of Chester, (i) Gilbert, bishop of Evreux, (i) Gilbert Buatère, (i), (ii) Gilbert I Crispin, (i) Gilbert II Crispin, (i) Gilbert Crispin, abbot of Westminster, (i), (ii), (iii) Gilbertines, (i) Gilbert Maminot, bishop of Lisieux, (i), (ii) Giroie, family, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) his sons, see Arnold of Echauffour, Fulk, Giroie, Hugh, Ralph, Robert, William, William of Montreuil Gisla, wife of Rollo, (i) Giso, bishop of Wells, (i) Gisulf II of Salerno, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Glanvill, (i) Glastonbury, (i), (ii) abbot, see Thurstan Gloucester, (i) council, (i) earl, see Robert Godehilde de Tosny, (i) Godfrey, count of Brionne, (i) Godfrey of Bouillon, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) n. 111

Godric, hermit of Finchale, (i) Godwin, earl of Wessex, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) n. 37 his sons, see Gyrth, Harold (king), Leofwine, Swein, Tostig Goleto, San Salvatore, (i) Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, (i) Gospatric, earl of Dunbar, (i) Gournay-en-Bray, (i) see also Gerard, Hugh Gozo, (i), (ii) Grandmesnil family, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) see also Arnold, Aubrey, Ivo, Hugh, Robert de, Robert II abbot of SaintEvroul Gratian, (i) Greek fire, (i) Gregory the Great, pope, saint, (i) Gregory VII, pope, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) n. 3 Grimbosq, (i) Gruffydd ap Cynan, Welsh king, (i), (ii) Gruffydd ap Llewelyn, Welsh king, (i) Guaimar III, prince of Salerno, (i), (ii), (iii) Guaimar IV, prince of Salerno, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Guibert of Nogent, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Guitmund, bishop of Aversa, (i) Gundulf, bishop of Rochester, (i) Gunnhildr, daughter of Harold Godwinson, (i), (ii)

Gunnor, duchess, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) n. 59 Guy, bishop of Amiens, (i) Guy, count of Ponthieu, (i) Gyrth, earl, (i) Haimo Peverel, (i), (ii) n. 46 Hamdanids, (i) Hamelin Plantagenet, (i) Harold Godwinson, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv) Harold Hardrada, Varangian, king of Norway, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Harran, battle of, (i), (ii) Hasting, Viking leader, (i), (ii) Hastings, (i), (ii), (iii) battle of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii) Hauteville family, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix)

see also Aubrey, Drogo, Geoffrey, Humphrey, Humphrey Abelard, Mauger, Robert Guiscard, Roger, Serlo, Tancred, William ‘Iron-Arm’ Hauteville-la-Guichard, (i) Havelock the Dane, (i) Hawise, daughter of Richard I of Normandy, (i) Hedingham, (i)

Henry Aristippus, (i) Henry II, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Henry III, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Henry IV, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Henry I, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi) Henry II, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi) Henry I, king of France, (i) Henry of Huntingdon, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Heraclea, battle of, (i) Herbert count of Maine, (i) Hereford, bishops of, see Leofgar, Robert the Lotharingian earl of, see Ralph of Mantes Hereward the Wake, (i), (ii), (iii) Herluin, abbot of Bec, (i), (ii) Hermann, bishop of Sherborne, (i) Hermann of Cannae, (i), (ii) Hervé Frankopoulos, (i), (ii), (iii) Hervé, son of Dodeman, (i) Hervey, bishop of Bangor, (i) Hervey de Glanville, (i) Holyrood, (i) homage, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Honorius II, pope, (i), (ii)

Hospitallers, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Houlme, siege of, (i) Hugh, archbishop of Rouen, (i) Hugh, bishop of Lisieux, (i) Hugh Bunel, (i) Hugh Capet, king of France, (i) Hugh, count of Vermandois, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Hugh d’Avranches, earl of Chester, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Hugh de Calvacamp, (i) Hugh de Gournay, (i) Hugh de Grandmesnil, (i), (ii) Hugh, earl of Shrewsbury, (i) Hugh the Chanter, (i) Hugh the Great, duke of the Franks and count of Paris, (i), (ii) Humber, river, (i), (ii) Humbert, cardinal, (i) Humphrey de Hauteville, (i), (ii), (iii) his son Abelard, (i) Humphrey de Tilleul, (i), (ii) his sons, see Arnold, Robert of Rhuddlan Humphrey FitzRalph, (i) Ibn al-Athīr, (i) Iceland, (i) Ilger Bigod, (i) Illyria, (i)

incastellamento, (i), (ii), (iii)

Innocent II, pope, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv)

Instituta Cnuti, (i) Ioannina, (i) Ireland, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Isaac Comnenos, emperor, (i) Isle of Wight, (i) Ivo de Grandmesnil, (i), (ii), (iii) Ivry, (i), (ii), (iii) see also Ralph, count of Jaffa, (i) Jedburgh, (i) Jericho, (i) Jerusalem, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii) Church of the Holy Sepulchre, (i) Dome of the Rock, (i) Mount of Olives, (i), (ii) Temple, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) kings, see Baldwin I, Baldwin II, Fulk, count of Anjou, Raymond of Poitiers, Renaud of Châtillon siege of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Jews, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) John, archbishop of Salerno, (i), (ii) John Comnenos, emperor, (i) John, king of England, (i) John of Matera, saint, (i)

John of Worcester, (i), (ii) John, patriarch of Antioch, (i) John Skylitzes, (i), (ii) Jordan, count of Ariano, (i) Jordan Fantosme, (i) Jordan, prince of Capua, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Joscelin count of Molfetta, (i) Joscelin of Courtenay, (i) Judith, duchess of Normandy, (i), (ii) Jumièges, abbey of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) see also William of justiciars, (i), (ii) Justinian, emperor, (i) Kairouan, (i) Kastoria, (i) Kerbogha, atabeg of Mosul, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Khazars, (i) Kiev, (i) Kilij Arslan, (i), (ii) Kilpeck, (i) Kirkwall, church of St Magnus, (i) knights, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii) Lanfranc, abbot of St Stephen’s Caen, archbishop of Canterbury, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x),

(xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) Langeais, (i) Laon, (i), (ii) bishop of, see Adalbero Larissa, siege of, (i) Latakia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) siege of, (i), (ii) law, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) Canon, (i), (ii) Common, (i) Lombard, (i), (ii) Roman, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v)

Digest of Justinian, (i) legal collections, see Assises d’Antioche, Assizes of Ariano, Instituta Cnuti, Consiliatio Cnuti, Leges

Edwardi Confessoris, Leges Henrici Primi, Leis Willelme, Pseudo-Cnut de Foresta, Quadripartitus, Textus Roffensis legates, papal, (i), (ii), (iii)

Leges Edwardi Confessoris, (i) Leis Willelme, (i) Le Mans, (i) abbey of Saint-Vincent, (i) Leo IX, pope, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Leofgar, bishop of Hereford, (i) Leofric, bishop of Exeter, (i) Leofwin, earl, (i)

Leo Marsicanus, (i), (ii), (iii) Leuchars, (i) Levounion, battle of, (i) Lewes Priory, (i), (ii)

Life of King Edward, (i) Lincoln, (i) battle of, (i) bishops of, see Alexander castle, (i) cathedral, (i), (ii) Lindisfarne, (i) Lipari, (i) Lisbon, (i) Lisieux, bishops of, see Gilbert Maminot, Hugh London, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii) bishop of, see Maurice cathedral, St Paul’s, (i), (ii) priory of Holy Trinity, (i) White Tower, (i), (ii), (iii) Lothar IV, king of the west Franks, (i) Lothar V, king of the west Franks, (i) Lotharingians, (i), (ii) Lothian, (i) Louis IV, king of the west Franks, (i), (ii), (iii) Louis VI, king of France, (i), (ii) Louis VII, king of France, (i), (ii)

Lucania, (i) Lucy, saint, (i) Mabel de Bellême, (i), (ii), (iii) Macbeth, king of Scots, (i) Macedonia, (i) Magnus Barelegs, king of Norway, (i) Mahdia, (i), (ii) Mainard, abbot of Mont-Saint-Michel, (i) Maine, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) count of, see Herbert Mainz, (i) Maio of Bari, (i), (ii) Malcolm III, king of Scots, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Malmesbury, abbey, (i), (ii) Malta, (i), (ii) Malvern, prior of, see Walcher Mamistra, (i), (ii), (iii) archbishop of, (i), (ii) Manche, department, (i), (ii) Mara’a al-Nu’man, (i), (ii), (iii) Marash, (i) Marbod of Rennes, (i) Marcher lords, (i), (ii) Mardin, (i) Margaret, queen of Scots, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Margat, (i) Marianus Scotus, (i)

Marmoutier, (i), (ii) Marsia, Berard count of, (i) Matera, (i) Matilda, empress, (i), (ii) Matilda I, queen, (i) Matilda II, queen, see Edith/Matilda Matilda of Ramsbury, (i) Matthew, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Matthew Paris, (i) Mauger count of Corbeil, (i) Maurice, bishop of London, royal chancellor, (i), (ii) n. 64 Mayenne, (i), (ii) Mazara, (i) Meaux, (i) Melaz, (i), (ii) Melfi, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Melisende, queen of Jerusalem, (i) Melrose, (i) Melun, (i) Melus of Bari, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) mercenaries, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Mercia, earls of, see Ælfgar, Edwin Mesiano, (i) Messina, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Michael Attaleiates, (i), (ii) Michael VII, emperor, (i), (ii) Michael Psellus, (i), (ii)

Michael, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Milan, (i) archbishop of, see Arnulf Milburgh, saint, (i) Miles Crispin of Wallingford, (i) Miles Crispin, precentor of Bec, (i) Mileto, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) abbey of SS. Trinità, (i), (ii) Santa Maria della Torre, (i) Militello, (i), (ii) Mimande, siege of, (i) Mirville, (i) Molfetta, see Joscelin count of Molise, (i) Monreale, abbey, (i), (ii) Montecassino, abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix) abbot, see Desiderius (Pope Victor III) chronicler, see Amatus Monte Gargano, (i) Montepeloso, (i) Montevergine, (i) Montgomery family, (i), see Hugh, earl of Shrewbury, Philip, Robert de Bellême, Roger of Montgomery Montreuil-sur-Mer, (i), (ii), (iii) Mont-Saint-Michel, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix)

abbot of, see Mainard siege of, (i) Morcar, earl of Northumbria, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Moriuht, poet, (i) Mortain, (i) counts of, see Robert, William, William Werlenc Mortemer, battle of, (i), (ii), (iii) Mosul, (i), (ii) Muriel, wife of Tancred de Hauteville, (i) Nablus, council of, (i), (ii) Naples, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) prince of, see Sergius IV Neaufles, (i) Neilos, saint, (i) Neufmarché-en-Lyons, castle, (i) Neustria, (i), (ii) Newcastle upon Tyne, (i), (ii) Nicaea, siege and battle of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Nicholas II, pope, (i), (ii), (iii) Nicholas, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Nikephoras Botaniates, (i) Nikephoras Phokas, (i) Noblat, shrine of St Leonard, (i) Norfolk, (i), (ii) Normandy, rulers of, see Rollo, William Longsword, Richard I, Richard II, Richard III, Robert I, William II (the Conqueror), Robert II, Henry I, king of England,

Geoffrey count of Anjou, Henry FitzEmpress, Richard I, John Northumberland, (i), (ii), (iii) Northumbria, (i), (ii) earl of, see Aubrey, Morcar, Robert de Mowbray Norway, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) kings of, see Harold Hardrada, Magnus Barelegs Nostell priory, (i), (ii) notaries, (i), (ii), (iii) Noto, (i) Odelerius father of Orderic Vitalis, (i) Odo, bishop of Bayeux, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) Odo, count of Blois, (i) Odo Stigand, (i) Ohrid, (i) Olivet, see Grimbosq Olympias (Helena) daughter of Robert Guiscard, (i) Orderic Vitalis, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii) Orford, (i) Orkneys, (i) Orne, department, (i), (ii), (iii) river, (i)

Orontes, river, (i), (ii), (iii) Ortona, (i) Osmund Drengot, (i) Oswald, bishop of Worcester, archbishop of York, (i) Otranto, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Oxford castle, (i) church of St George, (i) Palermo, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) Altofonte, (i) Cappella Palatina, (i), (ii) La Cuba, (i) La Favara, (i) La Ziza, (i) Martorana church, (i), (ii) Scibene, (i) royal palace, (i) siege of, (i), (ii) Pandulf IV, prince of Capua, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) parage, (i) n. 22 Paris, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Pascal II, pope, (i), (ii), (iii) Paul saint, (i), (ii), (iii) Pavia, (i), (ii) Payn Peverel, (i) Peace of God, (i), (ii)

peasants, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) Pechenegs, (i), (ii) Penitential Ordinance, (i) Penmon, Anglesey, (i) Perche, (i), (ii) count of, see Rotrou II Pescara, (i) Peter Bartholomew, (i) Peterborough abbey, (i) Peter, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv) Peter the Hermit, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Peter Tudebode, (i) Petrus Alfonsi, (i) Pevensey, (i), (ii) Peverel ‘of Dover’ family, (i) see also Haimo, Payn, William Philip I, king of France, (i), (ii) Philip II Augustus, king of France, (i) Philip de Thaon, (i) Philip of Montgomery, (i) Piazza Armerina, (i) Picardy, (i) Pilgrim, archbishop of Cologne, (i) pilgrims, pilgrimage, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv)

Pisa, Pisans, (i), (ii) Poitiers, (i) Pontefract priory, (i) Ponthieu, (i) popes, see Adrian IV, Alexander II, Benedict VIII, Benedict X, Calixtus II, Gregory the Great, Gregory VII, Honorius II, Innocent II, Leo IX, Nicholas II, Pascal II, Urban II, Victor II, Victor III (Desiderius) Préaux, (i)

Pseudo Cnut de Foresta, (i) Quadripartitus, (i) queens England, see Ealdgyth, Edith, Emma, Matilda I, Matilda II (Edith), Matilda III Jerusalem, see Adelaisia, Melisende Scots, see Margaret Rainulf I, count of Aversa, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Rainulf II, count of Aversa, (i) Rainulf, count of Caiozzo, (i) Richard, his son, (i) Ralph, count of Boiano, (i) Ralph, count of Ivry, (i), (ii) Ralph de Gael, (i), (ii) Ralph I de Tosny, (i) Ralph III de Tosny, (i), (ii) Ralph Glaber, (i)

Ralph of Caen, author, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii) Ralph of Domfront, patriarch of Antioch, (i), (ii) Ralph of Mantes, earl of Hereford, (i) Ralph, son of Giroie, (i) Ralph the Red of Pont-Erchanfray, (i) Ralph the Staller, (i) Ranulf II, earl of Chester, (i) Ranulf Flambard, bishop of Durham, (i), (ii) Ranulf, vicomte of Bayeux, (i) Raymond, count of Toulouse, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii) Raymond of Aguilers, (i) Raymond of Poitiers, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Reading abbey, (i) Regenbald the chancellor, (i), (ii) Reggio Calabria, (i) Renaud of Châtillon, (i), (ii) Rennes, (i) counts of, (i), (ii), (iii) see also Geoffrey Rhuddlan, (i), (ii) Rhys ap Tewdwr, king, (i) Richard (Drengot), count of Aversa, prince of Capua, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Richard de Sourdeval, (i) Richard I, duke of the Normans, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii)

Richard II, duke of the Normans, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) Richard III, duke of the Normans, (i) Richard FitzGilbert, (i) Richard I, king of England, (i) Richard of the Principate, (i), (ii) Richer of Rheims, (i) Richmond, (i) Ridwan, (i), (ii) Risle, river, (i) Riulf, Norman leader, (i) Rivallon lord of Dol, (i) Robert, archbishop of Rouen, count of Evreux, (i), (ii) Robert Bigot, (i) Robert Bordet, (i) Robert I, count of Flanders, (i) Robert II, count of Flanders, ‘the Jerusalemite’, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Robert, count of Loritello, (i), (ii) Robert, count of Meulan, (i) Robert, count of Mortain, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Robert Crispin, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Robert de Bellême, (i), (ii) Robert de Brus, (i) Robert I de Grandmesnil, (i) Robert II de Grandmesnil, (i) Robert de Mowbray, (i)

Robert de Sourdeval, (i), (ii) Robert de Todeni, (i) Robert I, duke of Normandy, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Robert II (Curthose), duke of Normandy, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx) Robert, earl of Gloucester, (i), (ii), (iii) Robert, earl of Leicester, (i) Robert FitzToustan, (i) Robert Guiscard, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii), (xxxviii), (xxxix), (xl) n. 122 wives, see Alberada, Sichelgaita Robert, marquis of Neustria, (i) Robert of Anzi, (i) Robert of Jumièges, archbishop of Canterbury, (i), (ii), (iii) Robert of Mayenne, (i) Robert of Montescaglioso, (i) Robert of Rhuddlan, (i), (ii) Robert of Stafford, (i) Robert of Torigni, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) n. 59 Robert, son of Fulk, (i) Robert, son of Giroie, (i) Robert the Lotharingian, bishop of Hereford, (i), (ii)

Robert the Monk, (i) Robert the Strong, marquis of Neustria, (i) Rochester, (i), (ii), (iii), bishops of, see Gundulf, Siward

Textus Roffensis, (i) Rodulf (Ralph) de Tosny, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Roger, abbot of Saint-Evroul, (i) Roger, bishop of Salisbury, (i), (ii), (iii) Roger ‘the Great’, count of Sicily, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi) Roger Borsa duke of Apulia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv) Roger de Barneville, (i), (ii) Roger de Tosny, (i) Roger d’Ivry, (i) Roger, earl of Hereford, (i), (ii) Roger II, king of Sicily, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii) nn. 101, 106 Roger of Beaumont, (i) Roger of Howden, (i) Roger of Montgomery, earl of Shropshire, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Roger of Salerno, prince of Antioch, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Rollo (Hrolfr, Rou), (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x)

Romanos IV, emperor, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Rome, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii) Castel Sant’Angelo, (i), (ii), (iii) St Peter’s, (i), (ii) siege of, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Rotrou II, count of Perche, (i), (ii), (iii) Rouen, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) abbey of Saint-Ouen de, (i) archbishopric of, (i) archbishops of, see Hugh, Robert cathedral, (i) counts of, (i), (ii), (iii) Roussel de Bailleul, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv)

Rus, (i), (ii) St Albans, abbey, (i), (ii) St Andrews, (i), (ii), (iii) bishops of, (i) Sainte-Barbe-en-Auge chronicle, (i) priory, (i) Saint-Calais, (i) Saint-Cénéri castle, (i) siege of, (i) Saint-Clair-sur-Epte, treaty of, (i), (ii)

St David’s, (i), (ii), bishops of, see Bernard, Gerald Stephen, bishop of Troia, (i) Saint-Evroul, abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi) abbot of, see Roger Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives, abbey, (i) St Symeon, (i), (ii), (iii) Saint-Wandrille, abbey, (i), (ii), (iii) saints, see Agatha, Alexis, Augustine, Benedict, Brendan, Bruno, Cataldus, Catherine of Alexandria, Catherine of Sinai, Cuthbert, Demetrius, Dunstan, Foy, George, Godric of Finchale, Gregory, John of Matera, Matthew, Michael, Milburgh, Nicholas, Paul, Peter, Waltheof, William of Vercelli, Wistan Saladin, (i) Salerno, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi) archbishops, see Alfanus, John princes, see Guaimar II, Guaimar III, Gisulf II Salisbury, (i) San Vincenzo al Volturno, (i), (ii) Saône, (i) Saracens, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii) Scolastica, saint, (i) Scone, (i) Scotland, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv)

kings of, see Alexander I, David I, Edgar, Macbeth, Malcolm III queen of, see Margaret Scots, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Scribla, (i), (ii) seals, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) n. 132 Secundinus, saint, (i) Sées, bishop of, (i), (ii) Segesta, (i) Seine, river, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Seine-Maritime, department, (i), (ii) Seljuks, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) Selkirk, (i) Sergius IV, prince of Naples, (i) Serlo de Hauteville, (i), (ii) Serlo of Bayeux, (i) Setric, Sihtryggr, Viking leader, (i) Shaizar, (i) Sherborne, (i) bishop of, see Hermann Shrewsbury, abbey, (i), (ii), (iii) Sichelgaita, wife of Robert Guiscard, (i), (ii), (iii) Sicily, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii), (xxxviii), (xxxix), (xl), (xli), (xlii), (xliii), (xliv),

(xlv), (xlvi), (xlvii), (xlviii), (xlix), (l), (li), (lii), (liii), (liv), (lv), (lvi), (lvii), (lviii), (lix), (lx), (lxi), (lxii), (lxiii) counts of, see Roger I kings of, see Roger II, William I Sidon, (i) sieges, see Alençon, Amalfi, Antioch, Artah, Barbastro, Bari, Capua, Catania, Dyrrachion, Edessa, Ely, Galeria Antica, Houlme, Jerusalem, Larissa, Latakia, Larissa, Mimande, Nicaea, Palermo, Rome, Saint-Cénéri, Salerno, Troia, Troina Siponto, (i) Siward, bishop of Rochester, (i) slaves, slavery, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) n. 33 Snowdonia, (i) Soissons, (i) Somme, river, (i) Sourdeval-la-Barre, (i) Speyer, (i) Spoleto, duchy of, (i), (ii), (iii) Squillace, bishop of, (i) Stafford, (i) Stamford Bridge, battle of, (i), (ii) Standard, battle of the, (i) Stephen, count of Aumale, (i) Stephen, count of Blois-Chartres, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v)

Stephen, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) Stephen of Bari, (i) Stephen of Pisa, (i) Stephen IX, pope, (i), (ii) Stephen of Rouen, author, (i) Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury, (i) Stiklestad, battle of, (i) Swein Estrithson king of Denmark, (i), (ii), (iii) Swein Forkbeard, king of Denmark, (i) Swein, son of Godwin, (i) Swordlestown, (i) Symeon of Durham, (i), (ii) Syracuse, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) bishop of, see William siege of, (i) Taillefer, (i), (ii), (iii) Tamim, (i) Tancred I de Hauteville, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Tancred, prince of Galilee, regent of Antioch, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii) n. 86, (xxxiv) n. 11, (xxxv) nn. 111, (xxxvi), (xxxvii) Taranto, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Tarsus, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv)

Tatikios, (i) taxation, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Tell Danith, battle of, (i) Templars, (i), (ii) Tewkesbury abbey, (i), (ii), (iii) Thames, river, (i) Thebes, (i) Theobald ‘the Trickster’, count of Blois-Chartres, (i), (ii) Thetford, (i) Thierry de Barneville, (i) Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury, (i), (ii), (iii) Thomas I of Bayeux, archbishop of York, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) n. 64 Thor Longus, (i) Thurstan, abbot of Glastonbury, (i) Thurstan, archbishop of York, (i) Tilleul-en-Auge, (i) Tillières-sur-Avre, (i), (ii) Tinchebray, battle of, (i), (ii) Tortosa, (i) Tosny family, (i), see Berenger Spina, Ralph I, Ralph II, Ralph III, Robert de Todeni, Robert of Stafford, Roger Tostig, earl, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) n. 90, (x) n. 27 Toulouse, count of, see Raymond Tours, (i), (ii), (iii) Trani, (i)

Trikkala, (i) Tripoli, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Troia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) siege of, (i) Troina, (i) siege of, (i) Tweed, river, (i) Tyre, (i) Urban II, pope, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii) Usama bin Munqidh, (i) Val Demone, (i), (ii), (iii) Val-ès-Dunes, battle of, (i), (ii) Valois, county of, (i), (ii) Valona (Vlorë), (i), (ii) Varangians, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Varaville, battle of, (i) Vaudreuil, (i), (ii) Venice, Venetians, (i), (ii) Venosa, abbey of SS. Trinità (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) Vermandois, (i), (ii), (iii), count of, see Hugh Vexin, (i), (ii), (iii) count of, see Walter

vicomtes, (i), (ii) Victor II, pope, (i) Victor III, pope, see Desiderius

Vikings, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii) Wace, author, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Walcher, bishop of Durham, (i), (ii) n. 64 Walcher, prior of Malvern, (i) Wales, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv) kings, see Gruffydd ap Cynan, Gruffydd ap Llewelyn, Rhys ap Tewdwr Wallingford, (i), (ii) Walter, abbot of Evesham, (i) Walter, archdeacon of Oxford, (i) Walter, count of the Vexin, (i) Walter II Giffard, (i) Walter Map, (i) Walter of Gloucester, (i) Walter of Saint-Valéry, (i) Walter the Chancellor, (i) Waltheof, earl of Northumbria, saint, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) Ware, (i) Warenne family, (i) see also Edith, William Wells, bishops of, see Giso Wenlock, (i) Westminster, (i) abbey, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix) abbot of, see Gilbert Crispin hall, (i), (ii)

palace, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) Whitby abbey, (i), (ii) William, bishop of Syracuse, (i) William Clito, (i), (ii), (iii) William, count of Evreux, (i) William, count of Mortain, (i), (ii) William Crispin, (i), (ii) William d’Aubigny, (i) William de Ferrers, (i) William de Grandmesnil, (i) William de Percy, (i) William de Tancarville, (i) William de Warenne, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) William, duke of Apulia, (i), (ii) William FitzOsbern, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi) William ‘Iron Arm’ de Hauteville, (i), (ii), (iii) William I, the Conqueror, duke of the Normans, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii), (xxiii), (xxiv), (xxv), (xxvi), (xxvii), (xxviii), (xxix), (xxx), (xxxi), (xxxii), (xxxiii), (xxxiv), (xxxv), (xxxvi), (xxxvii), (xxxviii), (xxxix), (xl), (xli), (xlii), (xliii), (xliv), (xlv), (xlvi), (xlvii), (xlviii), (xlix), (l), (li), (lii), (liii), (liv), (lv), (lvi), (lvii), (lviii), (lix) William II, Rufus, king of England, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi), (xxii)

William I, king of Sicily, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) William Longsword, duke of the Normans, (i), (ii), (iii) William Malet, (i) n. 82 William Meschin, (i) William of Alderi, (i) William of Apulia, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x) William of Eu, (i) William of Jumièges, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii) William of Malmesbury, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv) n. 87 William of Montreuil, (i), (ii), (iii) William of Poitiers, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv) n. 105 William of Saint-Calais, bishop of Durham, (i), (ii), (iii) n. 64 William of Vercelli, saint, (i) William of Volpiano, (i), (ii) William Peverel of Dover, (i), (ii) n. 46 William Repostel, (i) William son of Giroie, (i) William the Carpenter, lord of Melun, (i), (ii) William Werlenc, count of Mortain, (i), (ii) Wimund of Moulins-la-Marche, (i) Winchester, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v) bishops of, see Æthelwold, William Giffard cathedral, (i)

council, (i) royal palace, (i) Wilton abbey, (i) n. 31 Windsor, council, (i) Wistan, saint, (i) women, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii), (viii), (ix), (x), (xi), (xii), (xiii), (xiv), (xv), (xvi), (xvii), (xviii), (xix), (xx), (xxi) Woodstock, (i) Worcester bishops of, see Oswald, Wulfstan cathedral church, (i) chronicler, see John of priory, (i), (ii), (iii) Wulfric, abbot of St Augustine’s Canterbury, (i) Wulfstan, bishop of Worcester, (i), (ii) York, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) abbey of St Mary, (i), (ii) archbishopric of, (i), (ii), (iii) archbishops of, see Ealdred, Oswald, Thomas I, Thurstan castle, (i) chronicler, see Hugh the Chanter Minster, (i) priory of Holy Trinity, (i) Yorkshire, (i), (ii), (iii), (iv), (v), (vi), (vii) Zirids, (i), (ii)